A Disturbed Fermeta
by Hack.Drawer
Summary: After the terrible events that happened at Wickem Sanatarioum, The Vinsmokes take their brother to a safe place, far from their father's reach. What they didn't know was that their "safe place" wasn't safe at all. Horror AU Prisonic Requiem followup COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

A/n: Okay since my laptop died, I've got to do this the hard way - via mobile. But here it is, the sequel to "Prisonic Requiem." Hope you enjoy! That movie, "Split", was also a great motivator! :D

 **: 1 :**

The side of the island Ichiji Vinsmoke had chosen for his estate was a quiet area, taking the brunt of the morning sun's effects before the rest of the island could. Overlooking a channel of rushing water, the river emptied out into the reach of the ocean and provided a small profit of commercial fishing for those that chose the area to use. It was isolated in the effect that to get there, it took some traveling uphill, but the town was in view from the house's location. A small cropping of trees assured privacy, but was maintained by a few local gardeners that kept the estate beautifully kept.

A three story building that sat in the midst of animmaculate lawn space, the house boasted of small rooms but a wide first floor setting. Furniture was kept to a minimum, with expensive rugs that were imported from other islands. The walls held somber landscape paintings and skies from around the world, with dark colors that kept a minimalist attitude. A grandfather ticked and chimed at appropriate times, and since it was located closer to the town, it also provided electricity. A phone sat near the study, surrounded by books, a large globe of the world. A pair of dogs, Great Danes named Duval and Tony, roamed freely, allowed in and out of the house via doggie door located in the living room.

The single stairway that allowed access to all three floors was wide and grand, with thick posts and a railing that gleamed with a dark oil stain. There were two maids that visited only during the daytime, and a butler that lived on the second floor. While it retained nothing of the original Vinsmoke mansion, it was clearly Ichiji's. The immaculate setting didn't allow for much comfort, but it was a functional one.

Two months after Wickem Sanatorium was burned to the ground by one of its mad patients, Ichiji's decision to house his troubled younger brother, Sanji, had already proven difficult. Ichiji and his brothers had found it difficult to bond with him, as his disorder, caused by unknown years of abuse only discovered through Doctor Smoker's notes that he'd kept on Sanji, kept all of them at arm's length. Throughout their life, Sanji had beenproblematic – an overly anxious, argumentative and easily stressed person, his disorder with food and appearance in regards to some type of approval kept him distanced from his family. He spent too much time in jail as a result of his tempestuous moods, fighting verbally and physically at the switch of a hat, but did these things that he thought would make up for his lack of connection to the others.

Ichiji's decision to take him in, to somehow fix the rift caused by their father's abuse had been approved of by his brothers, who also wanted to contribute. They knew it would be a difficult process, as none of them had gotten along with Sanji, sure that he was only batshit-crazy; but after reading the file Dr Hina had managed to save before the destruction, all of them felt obligated to help in some way. While not directly naming the man that had abused their brother, Dr Smoker had pinpointed the cause of Sanji's diagnosis as resulting from acts of cruelty that only made sense because of remembered timelines and instances. It had been horrifying for the brothers to understand this because such things were unheard of for them.

As a result, their own relationship with their father was strained, but none of them could exactly speak their reasons why. To this day, Ichiji kept his distance from Judge, and made it possible for Judge to understand why he was not allowed at his estate. Because of the level of dangerousness in the exposure of what was known, Judge did respect Ichiji's decision, at his mercy to do so. While not admitting to it, his agreement to Ichiji's separation only made sense for Judge to keep his distance. Yet, at the same time, both of them worked amicably to continue building the Vinsmoke domain on their island.

It was a business decision to keep in contact, not a personal one.

Because of this understanding, Ichiji now had an inkling why their older sister, Reiju, married the first man that purposed and carted her away from the island without giving chance to a proper courtship. Whatever she herself had endured stayed with her, her only indication of such things occurring being that of her apathetic nature.

How human beings could prey on their own left Ichiji absolutely clueless. But it also motivated him that much more to attempt to fix what had happened. Being the eldest child, it was in him to take care of the work his father left for him, but he never imagined it would be this.

After the destruction of Wickem, because of the actions that had taken place, the controversy surrounding it had a police presence following Sanji after he'd settled in. When the murders started, he was a witness, but he could not provide full details. When the police stopped sending their officers upon the messy destruction of their operatives during overnight stays, when orderlies and doctors themselves were slaughtered messily, it was all blamed upon one Trafalgar Law, a prominent psychopath that had been kept there because of the lack of evidence supplied during his own jailing. Everyone had known it was him, but they could not prove his crimes. When the whispers started about malevolent spirits taking over the sanatorium, this was spoken about with such horror and disbelief that the event was disregarded. His body was found at the scene, which put the entire thing to rest, but the police department never recovered.

So they attached themselves to Sanji, but Sanji couldn't provide details.

Couldn't, or wouldn't, Ichiji had suspected. But Sanji's only tie to Trafalgar was that they were old childhood friends, and even then, Sanji had himself had no clue what motivated the psychopath into his destructive beginnings. What was known was only in the files Dr Hinaand the police department had, and it wasn't enough to explain what had happened the day the sanatorium burned down.

Sanji did not speak of the details, but Ichiji was aware that he remained bothered by it. He heard the nightmares his brother had, and noticed the sometimes faraway look on his face if he found himself reliving a moment, but because Sanji refused to give any of his vulnerabilities away, Ichiji didn't know what he had gone through to be placed into such a state. Why he was the only survivor bothered Ichiji – not that he wanted his brother to die, but why was he the only one?

He was not a natural survivor, given his destructive qualities. Physically, because of his disorder, he was very weak and he was mentally fragile, so why did the psychopath let him walk? Ichiji recalled that Sanji was not fully functional after he was pulled from the burning building by a pair of masoners Ichiji had run into after his retreat from the building, aware that he was under the effects of barbiturates – his father's damning habit that had attempted to keep Sanji 'docile' – but Sanji could not provide the details as to why Trafalgar taken so many with him to Hell.

The final report had mentioned that Sanji had only escaped because he was conveniently near a door on the first floor, and without all the pieces needed to figure out what exactly happened inside, many suspected that he was Law's accomplice. The shunning that happened after was expected; the tie that they were childhood friends had mounted to this. Whispers suggested that Sanji had helped Law kill everyone inside, with some given promise of his escape, because there was no possible way that this walking skeleton had the ability to escape someone as crafty and vicious as Trafalgar Law.

Sanji did not dispute any of this. He seemed dazed by his own escape, unable to put the pieces together, himself.

But, two months later, Ichiji thought all of that was behind them, now. They were moving on.

: :

One evening, as rain pattered down over the island in an expected spring shower, the quiet of the house easing over Ichiji's thoughts, he wasn't aware of the exact moment when he realized that there were eyes upon him.

Duval whined uneasily and stood up from the floor, slinking away from the dining room while Tony followed him with his massive head down. The dogs' unusual behavior caused Ichiji to look after them with a frown, wondering what it was that made them feel so discomforted. A pair of vocal animals, they tended to bum rush any stranger coming up to the estate and knocked down anyone that wasn't prepared for their affection. Duval had attached himself to Sanji with an unusual amount of attention when he'd first arrived, and while Sanji had no mind for animals, he seemed at ease when the dog was around. So when he left Sanji's side in that state, Ichiji naturally assumed that Sanji had sent him away. But he didn't hear his voice, nor any movement indicative of Sanji's rejection.

Being that only he and Sanji were there eating, it was only reasonable to look up and across the table at his brother. It was unsettling to meet those eyes that were staring back at him. The natural shadows of the living roomrendered Sanji's face differently - normally skeletal, with dull skin, thin, flaxen hair hanging flatly over one side of his face, he was looking at Ichiji with a somewhat calculating expression that was unlike him, thin lips pulled into a hint of a smirk.

The silence was suddenly unnaturally heavy. Ichiji couldn't explain the goosebumps that pimpled his skin.

"Is there something wrong with your food?" he questioned evenly, looking down at his own plate. Sanji had cooked, tonight. He had particular fits about food that made him feel better if he were the one in charge of it, but he often made dishes that were less than tasty; Ichiji let him do it because it seemed cooking gave Sanji some comfort.

"No," Sanji answered, but his voice seemed slightly different to Ichiji. There was something about it that seemed lower, something off that made him lift his eyes again. He watched his brother look down at his own plate, as if seeing it for the first time. He prodded at the vegetables with a fork, as if uncertain where to start. Not unusual behavior for him, but it was the way he held his eating utensil that made Ichiji hesitate. "There is nothing wrong with it."

"It could use a little more flavoring," Ichiji decided.

"Indeed." Sanji once again looked at him. The way his eyes coursed over Ichiji gave him the thought that he was being examined. It was not a good feeling. "I had an interesting thought, the other day, when you spoke about possibly bringing in a…specialist…to visit with me."

"Dr Hina was thoughtful enough to mail me a few recommendations based on your needs."

Sanji chuckled, but, again, there was something different about it that made Ichiji falter. "Dr Hina…whom does she recommend that could assist with my failures as a self-sustaining human being?"

Ichiji wasn't sure what it was that made him think this wasn't his brother. That thought was impossible to have. But it crept to the forefront of his mind because he couldn't recall Sanji conducting himself in such a composed manner when it came to his care. He was usually so impulsive with his expressions that left him winded, sullen, furious.

"A few names that I've yet to conduct personal research upon to send my approval," Ichiji answered, picking up his fork.

"Perhaps it's only a waste of time for your efforts," Sanji said, examining a piece of roast with a thoughtful eye. "Perhaps it's not a specialist that can help. But maybe a priest."

"I don't understand. A priest communicates expression of the Lord's teachings on how to further extend our life here on earth without fear of being sent below ground. Are you suggesting your time is limited?"

"Not mine," Sanji said, looking at him with that same, unsettling smile.

Ichiji wiped his mouth. "You've yet to explain this thought you had."

"Has it ever been considered that I am a lost cause?"

"We refuse to give up on you, even as it seems you've given up on yourself."

"Normally, one would think that trying to save a dying creature near its death throes to be considered 'food'. Or, perhaps, compost. As there is yet any sign of improvement on my…behavior, perhaps it is incapable of being fixed. Perhaps it only needs to be left unintended so that nature can take its course."

"We don't consider human lives as animals, nor do we think that it's incapable of 'not being fixed'. It can be fixed, because it was human caused."

"Just because a road can be smoothed over with dirt doesn't mean that all the cracks can be covered."

"Cracks can be filled."

"Perhaps with the addition of more dirt, but absolutely, it cannot be restored to its original form."

"This is only part of your diagnosis, Sanji. As you don't feel fully human, thanks to the subjection of abuse heaped upon you for a course of unknown years, you tend to forget that you are. You think you are less than that. This is something that can be fixed."

Sanji laughed. It was an unnerving sound. "Of course I am not a human! I haven't been treated as such, therefore, why consider myself one in the first place? Upon the first place when this abuse started, the thought of myself as a 'human being' was given no other thought other than I being only convenience and availability to another's perversion. As such, to think that such a concept could be restored in an effort to recognize myself as a human being is lost. Upon a change of mindset and conception, years after the first act, one would further think that because it took place, why should others continue to think, just because I walk on two legs and speak with one tongue, that I should be regarded as a human being and not an object to be used? Considering the lengths I've taken to further see myself as something other than human, others should consider the same. For their safety and continuity as, themselves, a human being."

Ichiji lowered his wine glass. "So you feel that once the abuse started, you are no longer a human being? That you should be continuously seen as what you were regarded as in that moment of time? It's not that you should be, because only one person deemed to think so. As that person is removed from your life, others don't think similarly."

"Oh?" Sanji then seemed to leer at him, leaning over his plate to do so. "You don't find me fetching?"

"That is a disgusting suggestion. I am your brother."

"Am I?" Sanji chuckled again, looking at his plate. "Sometimes, I don't feel that this is so, but it's not the specialist that can decide. It seems to be the devil inside of me that speaks for me."

"Are you in need of an exorcism?" Ichiji asked with a furrowed brow, absolutely puzzled by the quality of insanity Sanji was speaking of.

"But even religion doesn't seem to have the best of weapons available for my condition, as it has already proven that speaking to God does not help my disorder. Heonly seems to make it worse."

"I'm aware that you feel God has failed you, and perhaps He has. But He gave you strength in other places, in other forms. These are things you need to reconsider before you give yourself up because you are only tired of fighting. Others can help fight for you," Ichiji said firmly.

Sanji only seemed to find that amusing. He regarded Ichiji with his hands steepling together in front of him, elbows on the table. He seemed to regard the ceiling with a mock prayer form before lowering his forehead against his hands, stilling for several long seconds. Ichiji wasn't sure what had just transpired there between them, but he was left completely unsettled.

He wasn't sure what Sanji was asking for, what he was suggesting, but he made a note to include more church visits in his day to day schedule. Maybe it would help, considering how lost he was, sometimes.

Sanji's hands lowered to the table suddenly, and he exhaled heavily, picking up his fork and knife, studying his food with a critical eye. Then he paused, and looked at Ichiji, noticing the way he was being looked upon.

"What?" he snapped.

Surprised by the change of attitude, Ichiji wasn't sure how to answer.

Sanji looked down at Ichiji's plate, then his own before reddening significantly, voice tremoring slightly as he then snapped, "You don't like this? If you don't like it, don't eat it!"

That was his brother. The attitude, the assertion, the unhinged manner of attack before anything could be said. It made Ichiji wonder just who the hell he was talking to in the first place. His skin rippled once more, throat tight. It might have been his imagination, or perhaps Sanji had his moments of clarity and composition. But Ichiji did not possess a large imagination, so the former didn't make any sense.

Because he didn't know what to say, he returned his attention to his food while Sanji sat there, feeling uncomfortable with the sense that he'd lost track of time. That was impossible, though. He purposely blocked out memories, not present moments.


	2. Chapter 2

**: 2 :**

Early morning, the butler, Vito, threw on his jacket and left his room. The morning air was crisp and a little chilly, so he thought to load the wood stove so that at least the downstairs would be comfortable when the two masters awoke. The wooden floor under foot creaked as he made his way down, yawning quietly. Once he touched down onto the first floor, he expected to be assaulted by both Duval and Tony as they left the rooms upstairs, eager to eat, but the dogs were no where to be found. He hoped they were sleeping in.

He turned to make his way to the stove when he realized that the kitchen lights were on. He figured Sanji was awake early and making something for breakfast, so he ventured in that direction. He heard the clink of metal, the rustle of feet on floor, and so he walked through the doorway, expecting to see Sanji at the stove. But once there, he saw only an empty kitchen. The lights overhead buzzed slightly, illuminating clean counters and a dry sink. There was an eerie feeling to the place that made Vito think he wasn't alone. So he scanned the area once more, sure someone was there. But the kitchen was small, with a u-shaped counter space, and a pantry that was currently closed. He walked over anyway, looking over the stove, seeing that it was immaculate. He pushed the pantry door open and looked in, turning the lights on overhead. The shelves were fully stocked, the bins properly labeled and canisters closed tight – the walk-in space allowed only one body at a time, so upon seeing no one there, he turned off the light and closed the door.

He turned once again, his neck tingling with the awareness of another person nearby.

Just as he decided that he was only hearing things, the lights overhead shut off, leaving him in morning darkness. He was looking right near the switch as this happened, so he knew there was no one there to do so. His brow furrowed uneasily, but he figured that perhaps the lines were only bothered by the rain showers that had been occurring, lately. He set about to make coffee and then opened the curtains over the windows, looking over an area that was slowly being prompted to wakefulness by the rising sun.

As he was doing so, he heard faint whispers, a chatter of voices coming from behind him that made him turn away from the window to see if someone was there. But the house was silent, and the whispers, though low, gave him no indication of whom was speaking and what the content was about.

Vito walked away from the kitchen and paused just outside the doorway. Abruptly, the whispers stopped. Once again, he felt he were being watched, and he scanned the open dining room, the hallway, the foyer that allowed no hiding areas. The grandfather clock ticked away, providing the only true sound to the house. He walked about, checking the locked doors, opening the curtains and checking window locks, feeling his neck hairs stand on edge.

Upon finding nothing out of place or disturbed, Vito stood in the hallway with a bothered expression. Maybe he was only hearing things. At the click of dog nails on the floor, he looked up the stairway to seeing Duval looking down at him, ears flicked upward with curiosity.

"Here, boy," Vito called, patting his leg. "You hungry?"

Duvall cocked his head, then sniffed the air in various directions before uttering a slight whine, slinking back upthe stairway. Vito stood there with a frown, unsure of the dog's unusual behavior. Duval usually slammed into him at the mention of food, but this time, his retreat made Vito nervous.

Later that morning, as both Ichiji and Sanji sat at the table, Vito serving them coffee, the phone rang from the study. Ichiji excused himself to go answer, and so Vito was left with Sanji as he poured the dark liquid into the cup in front of him. Sanji stared at the action with a furrowed brow, lips faintly blue and his eyes darkly shadowed, and Vito thought it was unusual that he was so lost in thought as he watched the service unfold. Usually, Sanji was snapping at him for something, and his stillness made Vito uncomfortable. The clink of service ware seemed abruptly loud as Vito pulled back.

"Feeling under the weather, today, sir?" Vito asked him, setting aside the coffee pot and doctoring Ichiji's with his usual cream and sugar.

Sanji looked at Vito, furrowing his brow as he debated on answering. But he reached up to fiddle with an ear lobe, uncomfortable as he concentrated on the moment. "I keep hearing something in the distance…I don't know what it is, but it's…bothersome."

"What sort of noise, sir?"

"A little like machinery. A rumble, or a buzz. I'm not entirely sure what."

"Possibly boats on the river. They like to get in early to catch the day's worth. Or perhaps even the river itself."

Sanji was quiet for a few moments, reflecting on his thoughts. When his eyes dropped to the cup in front of him, his mood shifted suddenly.

"For fuck's sake, what is this?" Sanji then snapped at him, unexpectedly stiff as he looked over his cup. "What is this, oil?"

Drawing back with a start, Vito answered hastily, "Er…I'm sorry. I thought it was the way you liked…"

"Did you even grind the beans up, or is this fucking paste? I'll do it myself, tomorrow."

"I'm sorry, sir. I could take it back and – "

"I'll just drink it, forget about it," Sanji muttered, bringing the cup closer to him as Ichiji returned.

"Niji will be dropping by later this morning with some news from Reiju," Ichiji said, seating himself as Vito straightened away from the table. "Says she has good news she'd like to share with us."

"No one cares about her children," Sanji muttered, sipping at his cup, then making a face. "What is this? Oil?"

"Children?" Ichiji repeated, picking up the newspaper and unfolding it. "Of course not, she can't have any. And don't speak badly of Vito's efforts. He tries very hard to please us. Don't be so cantankerous so early in the morning, it's not good for your blood pressure."

Sanji studied his brother for a few moments, looking contemplative while holding onto his coffee cup. When Ichiji looked at him, sensing the action, Sanji held eye contact for what felt like too long. Then he tilted his head to the side, smiling brightly, Ichiji frowning at this.

"Mmm, I was just mentioning to Vito here how beautiful this morning's sunrise was," Sanji continued, looking out the window as Vito furrowed his brow, sure they'd been talking about a far off noise, instead. But he wasn't about to correct him. "This estate sure is beautiful. I had no idea that there was such a place on this island. Prime property, at surely convenient rates."

Ichiji noticed that Vito looked confused, staring at him as if he'd lost his head.

"Are you feeling well, this morning, brother?" Ichiji then asked curiously.

"Absolutely. I planned on spending my day in the library, catch up on some reading. It's been awhile since I had," Sanji said, sipping at his coffee once more. "Mm. This hits the palate just right, doesn't it?"

"Are there certain subjects you plan on covering?"

"Just some light reading to pass the day. There wasn't much to read at Wickem, and the variety here is just about right to catch my interest. I would like to read about this property, a little more," Sanji continued, setting his cup down. He crossed one knee over the other, tilting his head as he smiled at Ichiji. "Tell me. What is there to this property that I haven't yet explored? It looks large enough to have a team, here."

Ichiji was lost. Sanji knew the grounds, himself. He walked it, steadily, burning a trail into the perimeters himself on his daily walks. The question felt like it was coming from a different person, considering how his tone seemed to change into a lighter, nearly feminized version of his own. He looked at Vito, who looked absolutely confused.

"Well," Ichiji lowered his newspaper down, clearing his throat. "It's only 5 acres. I plan on adding some horses this spring, and perhaps even breed for profit. Most of it is unworked, which is what I'd requested. Clearing of land here is costly and it wouldn't want to lower property values should I have in mind to move, later."

"Breeding horses, hmm? Doesn't sound that bad, but it doesn't sound all that wonderful, either," Sanji commented lightly. "Oh, but what do I know of these things? I've only looked at them from a distance, and haven't had a chance to interact with any. Truth to tell, they're a little terrifying up close. Animals. You just cannot predict what they'll do, they're more mysterious than humans."

"Have you taken anything this morning?" Ichiji asked.

"Oh," Sanji murmured, covering his mouth briefly, "am I wrong for speaking aloud my thoughts?"

"No, I just…your behavior is rather…odd."

Sanji chuckled, but it wasn't one fitting of him. "Oh, I'm found out. I have been dallying near the medicine cabinet, lately. I've had these dreadful headaches. There is this sound, and I cannot pinpoint where it's coming from, and I'm afraid it's driving me mad. So I took a couple of the smallish ones, thinking it would help. Maybe the bottles weren't labeled correctly."

"Vito is in charge of the medicine cabinet, you know this. He has the key," Ichiji stated, looking at his butler, who fumbled for the keys in his jacket pocket to show them off.

Sanji tittered, reaching for his cup once more. "It was unlocked."

"Sir…I'm certain I'd locked it the last time, but perhaps…I made the mistake of thinking I did," Vito said hastily, looking quite unnerved as he searched his keys, seeing that they were all there. Ichiji looked from him to Sanji once more, considering his little brother's rather unusual mannerisms, his mood. He was once again looking out the window with a vague little smile, admiring the world as it alighted with the sun, not giving anymore explanation to his actions or thoughts. Before he could say anything, Sanji put the cup down and pushed away from his chair.

"I'm starting breakfast," he mumbled, stalking off to the kitchen.

Both men were lost in utter silence, unsure of the lapse that just occurred. Neither knew how to react or how to verbalize the unusual instance that just happened.

"It must be one of his bad days," Vito then told Ichijiwith concern. "How shall I prepare for this?"

"Ignore it, let him be. He must have a lot on his mind. He didn't like that I'd mentioned having Dr Hinarecommend a specialist come see him," Ichiji said, looking over the paper once more. But the furrow in his brow did not leave as he once again thought over the conversation that just happened. As it had last night, it had felt like another person was addressing him from his brother's body. The body language seemed to shift with too much feminine effort for Sanji's usual insecure hunch, and Sanji was much too bright when he was usually so angry and withdrawn.

"Ah, that explains it. If this is all you require of me, I'm going to take the dogs for a walk."

"Sure. Also, please check on Duval. He seems to be hiding in the library. Tony must be picking on him, again. What a sensitive dog," Ichiji murmured, not that interested in his dogs' troubles, but more interested in what the business section of the paper held. Vito nodded and headed off to do just that, hearing the angry sounds of things being moved around in the kitchen.

Ichiji then lowered the paper after a memory hit him. That day of the asylum visit, the day it burned down, he recalled seeing Trafalgar Law standing in the hall; instead of speaking and moving as a man should, he spoke with a distinct feminine voice, and walked with the flourish of a very confident woman. For some reason, that memory hit him hard as he thought about what just happened. In a way, Sanji's mannerisms reminded him of that moment.

Dr Hina had mentioned, with much regret, that the man had gone this far undetected with a multiple personality disorder; in the file as thick as a bible, he'd managed to hide this from the various personnel he was in contact with, including herself. They could not even begin to place how many of them he'd had, considering how he'd conducted himself throughout this amount of time with Wickem. Sanji was the only one that had any idea, but he constantly expressed that he did not know; he did not pay attention to the man. Dr Hina had insisted that he come clean, but Sanji had argued with her so much that he'd ended up in furious hysterics, and Dr Hina had to back off. With his own prognosis, Sanji was not reliable; he was easy to lose his composure, stubbornly insistent on paying any attention to anyone but himself; he did not express any sort of empathy or sympathy towards those lost in the fire, nor did he show any ounce of feeling towards the psychopath, other than he was 'a nuisance'. The only one to truly know what happened, and he could not, would not, reveal a thing.

Ichiji knew of that family Trafalgar came from – they ran in the same circles, but after that, Ichiji didn't hear of them or from them. He knew Trafalgar was associated with that unfortunate Buggy the Clown incident on their ninth birthday; he knew that the former patient of Dr Akainu'shad been turned loose much too soon, that he 'lost it', that something happened in the shed on Vinsmoke grounds, that the survivors had tried turning to God for help coping – but that was it. He personally knew nothing of those boys, or what they were doing in the institution, or how Sanji was connected to them.

But Dr Hina insisted that Sanji knew a lot more than he was giving up, and for Sanji to not say a thing made Ichiji wonder, sometimes.

After breakfast, while Sanji was cleaning up – much to Vito's dismay – Ichiji strode into the kitchen, setting his empty coffee cup aside. "I'm going into town. Would you like anything? Cigarettes?"

"No."

"I noticed you didn't eat much of your food. Perhaps you should snack on some of the pears and apples that were brought in the other day. Dr Hina suggested that you should at least snack once every hour – "

"I'll eat when I want, to."

"Vito has the key to the medicine cabinet if you're feeling – "

"I don't need that!"

"Also, it was mentioned that you were exercising, again. With what you do here, there is no need for extra physical activities," Ichiji continued, unbothered by the barks coming from him. Sanji stopped scrubbing vigorously at an invisible spot on the counter to look backat him. Standing firmly, Ichiji faced him.

"What was I doing?" Sanji asked him, furrowing his brow.

"You were heard jumping about in your room yesterday."

Sanji said nothing, thinking back on yesterday's activities. He wrote everything he did in diaries he kept near the bed, checking off the lines that he'd wanted accomplished and things he intended on doing for the next day. But jumping about wasn't one of those activities. He continued scrubbing. "Must've been someone else."

Ichiji felt concerned enough to say, "Perhaps you just forgot."

"Perhaps I wasn't doing that at all."

"It was coming from your room while one of the maids was cleaning my room, and she heard it distinctively. She reported it to me because she was concerned. There's not that much of you to exert to these things, and she's worried she'll find you collapsed in exhaustion again."

"Oh, bother, that was one time!"

"There are many of us here that are only concerned for you, Sanji, that is all. It is nothing for you to be upset over."

Sanji leaned against the counter, looking out the window with such a heavy frown that Ichiji knew he was only gathering his thoughts to speak. So he waited patiently, lowering his arms to his sides.

"It seems that I am not aware of these things happening," Sanji finally said, his voice vague in the morning quiet. "Maybe my memory is worsening."

"How often does this happen?"

"I don't know."

"Did it happen before?"

"Only when I make it happen."

Ichiji felt his jaw tightened, but he relaxed it to say, "Should we keep track, then?"

"You should," Sanji said quietly. "All of it."

What was surprising was how easily he agreed; what bothered Ichiji was why Sanji did so in the first place.

"Any unusual behavior that isn't…mine. Any conversations, any different mannerisms, anything I say that isn't…the norm."

"Why?"

Sanji shrugged, a light gesture. But he wouldn't look at Ichiji as he looked down at his task instead.

"Is this something that is only part of your disorder?"

"…No. Losing my memory to something as little as…as that, that's…new."

Because this was something Sanji was requesting on his own, Ichiji was more than relieved to abide to it. It sounded like a simple task, and he would relay the message to those around them that would notice. He nodded.

"This is something we can do for you," he said.

Because it looked as if Sanji wasn't done speaking, Ichiji continued to stand there. After a few moments, Sanji then said, "If I ever try and convince you of something that you feel isn't right…ask me who I am."

That made Ichiji feel unnerved. "You weren't diagnosed with that particular trait by any of your doctors, so why would you suspect - ?"

"Just do it. Don't make me explain why until…I can see the notes."

Puzzled, Ichiji then nodded. "Sure. Well…I'll speak with Vito about this."

"Everyone associated with me, around me – " Sanji then hesitated, then said, "Take the dogs with you."

"They're not normally with me – "

"Take them with you." Tapping his fingers on the counter, with a heavy exhale, he added, "Never leave them alone with me."

Ichiji was stumped because Sanji was cautioning him of something particular, but he also had to wonder if this was one of those unusual things Sanji had just warned him of, earlier. This sort of behavior wasn't mentioned in any part of his file, but because there was so much Sanji could not explain about the asylum's last days, and because parts of this conversation seemed to align with the whispers concerning the police department's thoughts on supernatural activity, Ichiji was just going to honor Sanji's request.

"They're outside with Vito, so I'll take them," he finally said, turning away from the kitchen, leaving without another word.

Long after he left, Sanji stood there, thinking heavily of the situation. His childhood friend, the one he'd lost contact with when his own prognosis took over and Sanji's hell started, had warned him of his own lost tracks of time when he wasn't aware that a personality was speaking for him. After the events of the sanatorium's destruction, Sanjididn't trust that parts of it hadn't left with him. He had started to suspect that the thoughts he'd had afterward weren't his, but he had no way of confirming them for himself. He thought he was only going crazy after the events he'd walked away from.

Now, Ichiji's concerns were suspiciously close to the things he'd suspected. He left the kitchen and headed to his room. There, he scanned the area – the full bed, the dresser, the closet, the things that made it both impersonal and personal at once – then went for the library. There, he searched for a particular book, found what he was looking for, and returned to his room. He sat at the edge of his bed, near the nightstand, and silently flipped through the pages of the book with consideration.

The ticking of the clock downstairs made him utterly aware that he was the only one in the house at this time. It seemed to fill the silence, but it also drew awareness to the very faint sound of machinery in the distance. When he fully realized it, he lifted his head, forcing himself to attune to it. But no matter how much he strained his ears to pinpoint the location of this sound, he could not tell what direction it was coming from, what it even was. He recalled Zoro complaining of this particular noise in Wickem – but why would Sanji hear it himself?

He looked back at the book, then rummaged through his nightstand for a pen and ink.

Niji arrived later that morning, and he found Sanji taking a nap in the front room. It wasn't unusual to find Sanji sleeping somewhere – his poor health often had him 'napping the day' away after small tasks, so he fidgeted around the house until Sanji woke upon hearing the noise. Once he was certain Sanji was up and moving, he walked into the front room with an opened letter.

Niji's brother wore layers upon clothing to combat the chilliness he often experienced as the result of his poor health, and the blanket he had atop of him was pulled around his shoulders. His state wasn't something a human being should be in, and Vito fretted constantly he'd happen upon Sanji dead somewhere because of organ failure. Niji often thought that Sanji only survived through belligerentstubbornness.

"Reiju wanted us to know she's having maybe two kids," he announced, Vito appearing moments later with a tray of cut snacks, some flavored drinks for them to enjoy while Niji was there. "It's a miracle, she said, especially after being told she was unable to have any."

Niji took a drink from Vito's tray before he could put it down on the coffee table. "Wasn't expecting it, but I guess she's far enough along to be comfortable telling people. She said it'd be nice if we could sail out to visit with her."

Sanji wasn't sure he wanted to make that sort of a trip. Traveling long distances in his condition wasn't recommended, and he did fret upon the thought of food options. Reading the news his sister had to share with them, he felt very uncomfortable committing to it, especially with how things were developing with him. If he was blacking out moments of time, who knew who it was that would cause his sister distress, or even…he didn't finish that thought. He refolded it and sat it aside, ignoring the tray.

"You're not going to eat?" Niji asked him, picking at the fruit available. "These pears are especially juicy."

Sitting in silence, Sanji seemed to lose himself in thought. Niji didn't know what to say – because he did not know of things to say that would be fitting for a conversation between them – so he sat there, eating in uncomfortable silence. Sanji picked the letter up again, rereading it. After a few moments, he looked at Niji. He set the letter aside before straightening up in his chair. His posture straightened, legs being pulled up onto the couch so that he could sit with his fingers curling over his exposed, crossed ankles.

The way he looked at both Vito and Niji was with considerable examination, and neither of them felt comfortable with it.

"Did you know that female spiders can choose what sperm to use in order to conceive? It is a system that they use after mating with multiple males to produce the most successful offspring."

"What does that have to do with Reiju?" Niji asked impatiently.

"Female spiders also tend to eat their mates after."

"Random," Niji decided with a frown. Sanji just smiled at him before turning his attention to the tray. He chose a drink and sipped at it, Vito watching him cautiously.

Smacking his lips, Sanji said, "This is good. The flavor is nicely sweet and fitting."

"I used strawberry flavoring this time," Vito said eagerly. "Just a hint of it."

"I haven't had this in such a long time. I'd forgotten what true flavoring tasted like," Sanji said, looking at the cup wistfully. "Tell me, anymore results founded from the asylum fire?"

It was an unusual topic for Sanji to bring up, considering that he did not talk of it. Almost liked he refused to, sometimes, even when prompted by the police, by Ichiji. Niji was uncomfortable saying anything, shifting in his seat with a frown.

"They, uh…last I heard, they were clearing away the ruins. Someone had bought the property to use for farming," Niji answered.

"And the bodies? Properly disposed of?"

"Yes. Some were buried in the local cemetery. Others were sent away to families on record."

"An unusually nice gesture of the island," Sanji murmured. "Hopefully, they find peace in the afterworld, wherever they wind up."

"I suppose, so. I'm not into that sort of thing."

"Oh? Niji, ya don't believe in ghosts?"

At the unusual wording, Niji furrowed his brow. "No. Bodies aren't vessels or houses for something spiritual – we're operated only on a highly reasonable scientific explanation."

Sanji chuckled, drinking from his glass again. "That's so cute. Did the stork story also confuse you as to whether they were the true deliverers of children, or are you of the cabbage baby beliefs?"

Unsure of how to answer that, Niji wasn't sure what to say. But before he could, Sanji looked at the glass he held and threw it away from him, moving to rise up from the chair with a distressed expression.

"I never asked for this!" Sanji snapped at Vito, almost stumbling as his legs straightened out, and he caught himself quickly as the movement prompted. Both Niji and Vito moved to help him, but he straightened himself up, tossing the blanket away with a huff of air. Not saying anything more, Sanji then walked off with a worried frown, leaving the two to look after him with puzzled expressions. Without saying anything, Vito tended to the mess left behind, Niji fidgeting with his drink.

"Ichiji talked to you, right?" he asked Vito.

The butler nodded with a frown. "Yes. He said to keep track of unusual behaviors, but sometimes I'm not sure which is unusual or…"

Niji had to agree. Sanji was explosive and prone to verbal fits that led to hostile confrontations. Their relationship with their brother wasn't an easy one, but now that they understood the reason behind his actions, the three of them were trying to keep that in mind. Because all of it made sense.

Niji couldn't think about it any further. The subject was just too uncomfortable for him to discuss on his own. He cleared his throat. "Well…I guess that was all I was supposed to do. Ichiji will also be bring Yonji back with him so we could all talk about this, and compare notes of some sort."

"I don't understand the nature of this request," Vito confessed. "Is it his diagnosis?"

"I don't know. Just that it was requested of Ichiji, and Ichiji felt he should comply with it, because it…distresses Sanji. Just…whatever seems unusual about him, I suppose."

"Like this conversation? Did you notice the way he was sitting?"

"Not exactly."

"Master Sanji does not often sit that way. He's more of the proper sort."

Now that it occurred to him, Sanji's posture had changed during their conversation, and while it was fresh in his mind, Niji did think that it posed a rather unusual look for him. It boasted of confidence and security when Sanjinormally had none. It made him wonder what sort of thing had happened for Sanji to ask this request of Ichiji. What should they be looking for?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: And so it starts…**

 **Musical Bear: I hope I make myself clear when writing it! Haha, thanks! LOL That's a lot of reading to do! And this fic is fresh, and will go quick like the last one did. After this chapter, Sanji has to tell them, now. ; ) And, yes, prepare yourself – because it's much like the last one D: It hurts me (HAH) but, yes…another bodycount in this horror fic. School first! Always!**

 **Alasse-M: I gotta read it, too. :0 This chapter answers your first question about Snooj's survival tactics. The ONLY fic where Ichi is a 'good guy', and…yah…my icon is GREAT. XD Remember, the personalities needed assistance, and Sanji was the one to give it to them in the last fic (the reason why will be here – I think). Plus, sometimes, they weren't aware of each other's actions, so the group of killers do have to perform a recon before they all know what they're working with; their ultimate goal in right in their grasp. Most observations will be answered in this chapter! ….don't get attached. D:**

 **: 3 :**

He knew he shouldn't have survived that fire. But his memory was incredibly spotty – all he remembered was taking a few of the pills he'd hoarded during that time, knowing that it would keep Law away from him. It was one of his games Law liked to play – and when Sanji grew aware of it when they were younger, and this personality spoke out about his secrets with such casual indifference meant to hurt him, Sanji learned how to defend himself.

At that time, things had been so different. As children, he and Law had too much of an age difference to truly bond. But when church beckoned, and Sanji found himself drifting away from his consciousness just to escape the horror of his abuse, he often found himself in the same house as Law. Law was trying to find a way to ignore the rising voices that insistently ventured out to torture him, and it was easier to speak with combined neutrality to learn casually of each other.

Sanji had considered him a friend until that other personality began speaking out more and more, and Sanji began thinking only of the things that mattered most to him. Menus, calories, activity, appearance – things that didn't interest Law. He refused attachments because attachments were dangerous – Sanji isolated himself and warred with both himself and the world after that. Not long after, Law left the church to carry on some horrific acts that were only discovered later in life.

Wickem brought them together again, and Sanji continued to remain indifferent as much as possible to avoid being drawn into Law's schemes. The only thing that stood out was that Law knew him, and exposed this constantly. Sanji had reacted because he knew his friend was in there, somewhere, amidst those calculating personalities, and while he toed the line of being the psychopath's accomplice, Law still couldn't reach him – in the end, Sanji wondered how he was allowed to walk free.

But he didn't feel free. There was always someone whispering back to him in response to his own thinking weren't his own.

To learn from Ichiji and others that he was doing things he just did not recall frightened him. Law had mentioned that he sometimes could not hear the others – was that how it worked for him? These blackout periods that Sanji was never aware of until it was mentioned, or until he realized what sort of position he was in? He was aware that they spoke to each other – in the end, Law had fluent conversations with 'himself', voices alternating with personalities and action in such fluid motion that one was completely aware of it. Somehow, he was also able to disperse these personalities into human form, and it was those that ran rampant around Wickem, killing people. Was it supernatural, or was it another one of his tricks that allowed these personalities to be seen?

Accompanying these moments were those terrible powers Penguin had – that upsetting telekinesis that emerged as hot air, as vibration; could that be the source of the sound that Sanji heard in the distance?

With that, because the thoughts he heard sounded distinctively of their voices – Ace's, Luffy's, Zoro's, occasionally Ussop's – did they reside in him as well? Were there others? Sengoku, Dr Smoker, Akainu? It was hard to tell whom was speaking when the voices seemed genderless.

Sanji wondered if it true that when Law and Penguin used the spirit board to contact John, their murdered friend, they'd called something else out that was near impossible to fathom. A demon, perhaps, something beyond human capabilities. That took on the souls of those it killed while Buggy searched for revenge.

There was Robin, a mysterious woman that alternated between motherly and purposefully absent minded; Shachi, who seemed to have taken on John's childlike personality; Shilliew, a malevolent killer; and a side of Law that had never existed of the true soul, who was godly and sad, unable to cope with John's gruesome murder – but then there was Buggy, too, whose skull drill left him as a fumbling mess, who wanted revenge against Judge for the birthday party he was removed from when he couldn't perform his show due to it.

Who was talking to Ichiji that caused the eldest brother such concern?

 _It was me, I confess_ , a low voice answered, and it was so clear that Sanji automatically turned his head to look for the location of that voice. But it left him a short breath as he registered that he was alone.

"Don't talk to me!" he snapped aloud, heart thundering noisily.

 _But who would you talk to, when you don't even speak to those around you_?

Sanji was not going to answer that. He felt himself shaking, accepting that this was happening. With easy effort, Sanji thought about what he already ate, today. He thought about the measures of drink he had, adding in the drink Vito had served, and forced in numbers, allowances, touching his wrist and measuring the width. His fingers were shaking so badly that this was near impossible to do, and there was a jumbled noise of words as he pictured his food diary, pictured the foods he'd let melt in his mouth, recalled the taste of it as he did so.

The air around him grew forcefully warm, and a faint vibration caused the ink well to slosh ever so slightly. From the corner of his eye, he saw someone near the doorway, stop motion action that allowed him to actually look in time to see someone passing by, leaving wisps of shadow behind it. He shut his eyes tightly, bringing forth the menu of yesterday, and recalling the recipe he'd used to cook dinner with.

 _A teaspoon of salt, a pinch of minced garlic, pepper, light flour, potatoes cut into perfect cubes of shape, a slice of a finger, blood on the board_ –

The vibration stopped, and he was able to breathe again, a shudder that left him weak. His heart continued to race, and he reached up to place his palm against it, as if trying to soothe it. Blood pounded, and he heard nothing but his own rushing breath. His skin was left with a vague tingle, sweat beaded upon his hairline. He reached for the book at his nightstand, flipping through the pages frantically, looking for a certain passage to give him some comfort. But when he came upon it, the page was decorated with crosses on fire, devil faces, laughing faces.

 _Open up open up open up open up open up open up little piggy_!

Another page was decorated with pictures of a skeleton eating itself; 'John' was written in cursive and print, covering the page with a heavy hand.

 _He's not here, anymore_! Someone had written at the bottom. Ha! Ha! Ha!

Sanji closed the book and set it aside.

He didn't know what to do.

: :

Expecting his brothers to return at any minute, Niji wandered out onto the front porch, scanning the horizons. In the distance, he could hear Tony and Duval barking, the sound assuring him that they were coming up the winding road to the property. There were a couple of gardeners working on the brush nearby, and a maid hanging out sheets to dry. Inside was another maid, cleaning the first floor, and Vito himself was organizing dinner arrangements for that night in the kitchen. Amidst all the stomping, patting, cutting and cheery talk between Vito and the maid, Niji reflected on Ichiji's unusual request to document Sanji's odd behavior, and wondered what would count as 'odd'.

He fiddled with his hair for a few moments, looking back as Vito joined him on the porch, wiping his tattooed forehead.

"I'll need to go meet with them," he told Niji, gesturing at the roadway. "So Master Ichiji could be aware of things before he settles in with Yonji."

"Right, right."

Niji watched him amble off, the sounds of the dogs' barking increasing in volume as their carriage grew closer. He imagined that they were running alongside the vehicle, racing off their excess energy. While standing there, the maid cleaning on the first floor walked out with a couple of rugs over one arm, draping them over the porch railing to beat the dust out of.

He walked back inside, listening to the clock tick. In the still silence of the house, he listened for Sanji's whereabouts, but he assumed his younger brother had taken to the outside property for his daily walk. Wandering through the freshly dusted and cleansed living room, he looked at the furniture that made him curl a lip with disdain, wondering when Ichiji would buy something more modern for the times.

At the sudden burst of laughter, Niji looked in the direction it had come from. The rustling sounds of kitchen movement had him turning to face it, a little puzzled as to who had crept by him with his back turned. That sound hadn't been anyone he recognized, considering that most of the workers on property were older, and this was the sound of a young man. He glanced up at the stairway, wondering if Sanji had come down and was looking over the things Vito had taken out.

"This is soooooo _good_!" he heard, a muffled sound that was accompanied with more rustling, the sound of pans moving about. Niji immediately headed in that direction, eager to reprimand the violator that had taken advantage of the quiet house to sneak into the food supplies. He took stealthy steps towards the doorway, and looked in. The counter tops were covered with canned and bagged food supplies, with a turkey sitting atop of a platter, waiting for attention. But there were bags ripped open, revealing fruits, pastry dough, and there were berries, apples lying on the floor. What he also became aware of was a high tension in the room, a sort of heavy churning of machinery that began as a dull buzz at his ear. He wasn't sure where it was coming from, looking around himself to the washing machine, to the ice box near the back door. But the heavy wooden panel was shut tight, and the machine, though recently wet, was not in any operating condition. So he took the steps necessary to peer around the counter, where he could hear the sounds of someone eating noisily, humming with pleasure.

Niji was startled to see that it was his brother crouching on the floor, shoving dough into his mouth, a handful of berries in one hand. All around him were nearly finished fruits, bread, and what looked to be the remains of a ham, teeth marks apparent in what remained of the meat. Extremely puzzled, Niji watched Sanji cram more food into his mouth, chewing awkwardly, sitting in such an odd position that he'd never seen Sanji sit, before. His elbows rested on his bony knees, his arms pulled in tight, and he ate with such a fervor that Niji was vaguely disgusted.

"What are you doing?" he asked, Sanji stiffening up with a choked noise.

Slowly, Sanji turned his head to look at him, mouth still full, a couple of berries escaping his stained lips. He swallowed noisily before rising to stand, looking at Niji with startled action. Niji stared back at him with repulsion, unsure of what to think.

Cringing with guilt, Sanji answered noisily, "Eating! I was _starving_! Look, I'd appreciate it if you didn't snitch on me, okay? But I couldn't help myself, I was so very hungry!"

Niji took a few moments to respond, because even Sanji's voice was altered. It was lighter, younger, and he had such an expression to his bony features that it was almost as if he were looking at someone else. As Niji stood there, Sanji crammed in the handful of berries he'd been holding, chewing clumsily as juice dribbled over his lips. Then he started to slink away, watching Niji warily. As soon as he was able to skirt around him, he leapt off with a happy shout, running for the stairway.

"I'm having a food baby!" he shouted gaily, hand on his bulging stomach. He ran up with more laughter as Niji turned to look after him. The sound of his running footsteps took the second floor hallway, a door slamming shut with such heavy finality that the house's silence took over with a startling whoosh of air. That churning of machinery had disappeared with Sanji's leave, and Niji looked back at the mess with a wide-eyed examination before he turned and headed up in the same direction; to see if Sanji were alright.

As soon as he stepped into the hallway, leaving the stairway with a furrowed brow, there was a change in temperature. It felt hot all of a sudden, and the air itself seemed to tremble. With notice of this change, Niji heard the doors around him rattling ever so slightly, the doorknobs trembling with a dim jingle. All his hairs seemed to stand on end as he grew aware of this odd phenomena, and he hesitated. Sanji's room was located just across the hall from Ichiji's, and that door was wide open. There were four rooms on this level, and the only shut door was the bathroom, the furthest to the left.

Hand lingering on the banister, Niji questioned himself for his hesitation. He ventured forward after a heavy exhale, and walked the plush runner towards the closed door. That sound seemed to grow stronger, making him uncomfortable. It seemed to drown out the dogs' barking, the sounds of the outside, and he glanced over his shoulder to see the front doors wide open. One of the maids passed by with an armful of material, but she stopped to chat with the other. Niji returned his attention to the hallway, and fluffed out his shirt, certain he was just being silly for the feelings he was currently experiencing.

As he passed by Ichiji's door, it slammed shut with such violence that he jerked away from it in reaction, heart thundering as the sound reverberated. Not a moment later, he heard a child giggle in response, but it was such a faraway sound that he was shocked to hear it at all. Taking the chance, he stomped towards it and opened it, pushing it open to see who was behind it. Ichiji's room was dark, the way he preferred, and Niji scanned what he could to see if anyone were hiding in there. But the bed was high enough from the floor for him to see clearly underneath, and though the curtains rustled, he assumed it was from an open window. It would explained why it had shut suddenly.

He turned away to leave the room, catching sight of a shape leaving the doorframe; as if someone had been peeking in. He hurried his step and looked out into the hall, seeing no one. Absolutely puzzled, certain he would have seen somebody in the amount of time it took to look out, he stood in the doorway for some seconds. A doorknob jiggled, the sound of a childish giggle filtering through the hall.

Since the other doors were open, save for the last door on the left, Niji ventured out towards it. But the jiggle happened again, catching his attention to the right, to the room Yonji usually occupied. As he did so, he saw the shape of a shadow crossing in front of the windows, and he hurried in just in time to see the closet door closing.

"Little shit," he muttered, striding over and jerking it open, revealing hangers with Yonji's various shirts and jackets, boots and shoes lined up neatly on the floor. He pushed aside the articles of clothing to see no one inside, and he huffed, wondering if he were only hearing things. Maybe one of the workers had brought a kid to the house, and he strode away from the closet, intending on heading outside to ask. The door slammed shut in front of his face, the doorknob jiggling. He grabbed it, finding it difficult to turn – he fiddled with the lock, then tried the knob again, but to him, it felt like someone was holding it in place.

"Sanji!" he yelled, knocking on the door. "Knock it off!"

Whoever it was knocked on the door moments later, and he began pounding on it in response. "You jerk! Open up!"

"Let me in, let me in," he heard whispered from the other side, door knob jiggling violently under his hands. Bewildered, he stepped back, expecting someone to walk in.

"Open up little piggy," he heard in that same whisper, a knock at the door. "Open up right now before I blow the door down."

Unnerved, Niji kicked the door, and tried the knob again. The opposing force from the other side battled him for an equal turn. " _Sanji_! Sanji, I don't care what state you're in, I'm going to pound your freaking face in! Knock it off! Let me out!"

" _Let me in_!"

"SANJI!"

"Or I'll huff…"

"You asshole!"

"…and puff…"

"I'm going to throw you down the stairs!"

"…and blow your house down!"

The door burst inward with such a violent action that the lock ripped through the doorframe, narrowly missing Niji by inches. He jerked backward with a startled cry, tripping over the rug spread out in front of Yonji's bed, and expected to see a man of large size standing there, because that was the only explanation for the door's violent opening. The door slammed back against the wall, rattling the paintings and single mirror hanging there, the hinges whining in protest.

But all Niji saw was an empty hallway, the air intensely hot, strumming with a strange vibration.

A man's loud laughter rang out, and Niji felt his skin crawl at the strange sound. He shot up to his feet and ran out into the hallway, looking for the perpetrator. Feeling winded, he stood there for a few moments, seeing that the other doors were still open, hearing nothing but that odd sound and his own breath. He looked back at the closed bathroom door and nearly ran to it, twisting the knob. Pushing the door open, he saw Sanji standing near the bathtub with his back to him.

"You fucking asshole! You think you're so funny?" Niji demanded, looking behind the door, scanning the room for another individual. "What the fuck is your problem?"

Receiving no response from him, Niji strode over to grab his shoulder, to jerk him around to face him when Sanji's head twisted to look at him, and it wasn't Sanji looking back at him, but a man with a sinister smile. Niji reacted violently away from him, watching as one bony arm lurching up, swinging out wide. It was to twist Sanji's body around, stumbling steps taken to right himself, every action stiff and spasmodic, as if puppeteered by string; as if something were trying to escape his own skin.

"Meat sack!" Sanji bellowed, in a voice unlike his own, lips wide with a deranged grin, red-faced with intensity – so much that veins bulged from his forehead and neck. Niji sucked in a breath, moving further away from him as his younger brother's shoulders jerked upward, forcing him into an abnormal reach for height. Bones snapped and cracked as he did so, jaw tight as teeth ground together. The sound was obscenely loud, and Niji expected teeth to chip, emerge broken.

After a few moments of heavy breathing, Sanji strode towards him. " _C'mere_!"

Niji turned and raced out from the bathroom as he heard the heavy pounding of steps behind him, and he took the stairs in a near jump, hitting the first floor running. He slammed into the maid with an armful of laundry as she walked in through the open front doors, the force of their collusion sending her back first into the porch. He stumbled over the stairs, hitting the dirt in an awkward jumble of limbs, much to the surprised cries of the maids and the gardener that looked at him with startled movement.

The dogs swamped him, licking and barking before Niji could get up, arms swinging to free himself from their barrage of affection.

" _What are you doing_?" Yonji asked him incredulously, Ichiji staring at his younger brother with surprise, both of them leaving their carriage.

Facing the house, Niji just pointed, breathing heavily as he sought to straighten out his clothes. He couldn't explain what had just happened, pointing urgently at the front doors, Ichiji reaching him with a palm to his shoulder. Niji jerked out of his grasp, trying to get the words out. Yonji then took the initiative to stride towards the house, saying, "Did he die? Did you find him dead, or something?"

"Oh, _Jesus_ , it was going to happen sooner or later," Ichiji commented with heavy concern, abandoning Niji's side and hurrying after his taller brother.

"No! NO!" Niji shouted, hurrying after them. "It wasn't him! It was someone else! There's someone else - !"

"Another person on the premises?" Ichiji asked as they strode into the house, the maids looking on apprehensively.

"No! It was Sanji – and it wasn't! It was - !"

"For God's sake, you wimp," Yonji said, looking back at him with disgust. "Spit it out."

"In the bathroom! There was Sanji, but someone else! Fucking with me!"

"Hah! You're such a baby," Yonji sneered at him, taking the stairs two at a time while Ichiji looked at Niji with bewilderment. Vito wasn't that far behind him, and when he slouched low to enter, he looked after the three with startled action, unsure of what to make of the scene. The two dogs stopped at the open door, and began whining, pacing anxiously behind them. Ichiji looked at them with concern, Niji brushing himself off as they waited to hear from Yonji. Niji expected the same sort of outcome from his younger brother, looking up the stairway with unease.

Not even moments later, Yonji appeared at the top of the staircase, looking at Niji with a frown. "He's throwing up. Was that all you were afraid of?"

Outraged, Niji took the stairs himself, Ichiji trailing along behind him. Gone was the hot air, the vibration, the churning of machinery. Unbelieving, Niji pushed past Yonji and marched back to the bathroom to see Sanji hunched over the toilet, forcing himself to puke up the huge quantities of food he'd consumed earlier.

Without hesitation, Niji strode towards him and jerked him away, Sanji looking at him with indignation of his own for interrupting him.

"Get off me!" Sanji snapped at him, pushing him back, Niji looking at his normal face with confusion. He took a few hits to the face before he snapped out of his shock and shoved Sanji away from him.

Catching himself, Sanji continued to scream at him. "Get out of here! What the fuck are you doing? LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"What the hell…?" Niji commented, utterly flabbergasted, looking around the bathroom with panic. " _What the hell_?"

" _Get OUT_!" Sanji shouted at him, shoving him towards the hall, slamming the door behind him. Once the lock hit, Ichiji marched up to the door and knocked on it, jiggling the doorknob.

"Sanji! What is happening?" he demanded, listening to the sounds of various things being flung to the floor, of something shattering before his brother resumed his retching. He looked back at Niji with absolute perplexity, Niji finally able to catch his breath.

With a disbelieving shrug, hands going to his hair, Niji wasn't sure how to explain it.


	4. Chapter 4

**: 4 :**

Dinner was tense later that evening, Vito serving the brothers uncomfortably as tension kept the air hot and heavy. Niji glared across the table at Sanji, who glared back at him, Yonji unsure of what he was walking into as Ichiji fiddled with his utensils. Light casted over all of them rendered uneven shadows to their faces, and the dogs were laid out over the floor, with Duval at Sanji's side, waiting for the scrap he knew was coming his way.

The Great Danes' comfort allowed Ichiji some air of relaxation. Their odd moments of leaving the scene due to distress made them canaries, and he found himself watching them more than usual. Because he wasn't allowed to take part in food preparations after this afternoon, Sanji glared down at his plate, refusing to budge until he could find something appropriate to eat, first. Yonji kept glancing from brother to brother as he ate, finally looking at Ichiji for some sort of explanation.

"I went over a few things with Yonji before our arrival," Ichiji said, as Vito refilled his wine glass. "Including your request to document your odd behavior, as indicated, Sanji."

"I have a full book, right now," Niji hissed at his younger brother, Sanji frowning at him.

"Now that we're all present, care to share with the rest of us your reasoning for these requests?" Ichiji asked Sanji, looking to Tony as the Great Dane heaved a snuff into the floor before rolling onto his back, legs in the air. Duval whined slightly, licking Sanji's elbow to remind him he was still there.

Sanji frowned at his plate for several moments, before he exhaled heavily.

"Trafalgar had multiple personalities," he said low, picking up his fork, stabbing at the turkey slice in front of him, shredding pieces aside. "Speaking nearly in the same breath to each other, or to…to me, or to someone else."

"That was that psychopath, right? That was ripping people up around the other island?" Yonji asked for clarification, Ichiji nodding.

Sanji hesitated, knowing that what he had to say was going to be viewed negatively. There was no way his brothers would believe him, considering how far-fetched it would sound; but at the same time, if these people were speaking out dangerously, then there was no need to hide it, anymore. He knew what they were there, for.

He said thickly, "I could hear him, too."

" _Talking_ to you?" Ichiji asked.

"Talking…from inside of me."

" _Impossible_ ," Ichiji said, lowering his fork. "Trafalgar was found dead. Are you sure it's not just your imagination?"

"Why would I _say_ this if it were my fucking imagination?" Sanji barked at him, reddening in the face before slamming his fork down. "You want to hear what I have to say, then shut up!"

"Maybe you were traumatized by the whole thing that happened at Wickem, and just sort of imagined that stuff," Yonji reasoned, wiping his mouth.

"What a vivid fucking imagination, then!" Sanji snarled, trembling slightly. "If someone other than me is speaking to you!"

"That's just you, acting out," Yonji said, Sanji's face and neck filling with red, gripping the fork tightly in one hand. "Because of the way things ended, like, you weren't able to deal with it, properly. Some of them were your friends, right?"

"I was friends with _no one_ in that nut house!"

"How does he speak with you, Sanji?" Ichiji interrupted Yonji. "How do you recognize these things when you cannot remember speaking to us?"

Taking a calming breath, Sanji focused on the center of the table before he took the slab of turkey and gave it to Duval, the dog taking it gratefully, wagging his tail as he munched at it. Tony looked up hopefully, Ichiji frowning at Sanji. With the scraps left behind, Sanji stuffed those under his tongue to continue talking.

"Like there's another person in the room with me," he replied sullenly. "His voice. I know it's him."

"What does he tell you?"

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Sanji answered, "Not much."

"Does…he ask about certain things?"

Sanji shook his head. "No. I…I'm assuming, from the lost periods of time, that he –they - ask for information themselves. I can't hear this happening. It makes sense, now, why…why my friend was the way he…sometimes woke up in the middle of the chaos. They left him to speak for whatever actions they caused, with absolutely nothing to give him."

Thinking about the conversation this morning, Ichiji asked slowly, "For instance, information about the property?"

Reaching up to clutch strands of his hair, Sanji struggled to remember anything regarding this morning. But only Vito's coffee really stood out. "I don't know," he exhaled heavily. "I don't know what they ask about – "

"'They'?"

"There were others," Sanji said. He shifted what was left of the pieces of turkey from one side of his mouth to the other, Yonji wondering what would be so appealing of the gesture as to let food 'soak' in one's mouth without chewing. "There were…two…there were _two_ Laws – one would instigate things, ask about things, the other was very religious and…timid. There was a woman, she – "

"You asked about the property in a very…feminized manner. Spoke about the library, reading, getting into the pill cabinet despite Vito's security."

"This afternoon, it was a man, a very chilling, abnormal man," Niji stated, looking at Sanji accusingly. "Calling me a 'meat sack'. And when you were eating, you were so fucking hungry, you didn't care _what_ you were eating - !"

"In what manner did I present myself at that time?" Sanji asked him quickly, trepidation filling his features.

"I don't know! You were…like a kid! And you were eating like a fucking pig!"

Sanji thought of Luffy, who ate off of everyone's plates, who was always hungry. It filled him with utter dread, touching his wrists, scared of what could happen with that boy dictating his hunger. But it didn't make sense – the other personalities were Law's, so how could he have Luffy inside of him, as well? Luffy was not a part of Law.

Reluctantly, he said, "His name was Luffy."

"The Monkey boy was an actual patient," Ichiji stated, sipping at his wine. "So why him?"

" _I don't know_!"

"If we don't have to yell while speaking, then let's not," Yonji told Sanji impatiently, gesturing for Vito to fill his plate back up, the butler doing so hastily.

"If that's true, then this bastard and I had a conversation last night over the table," Ichiji said with discomfort, looking at Duval as he whined at Sanji's elbow again. Tony watched, ears alert, tail thumping with hopeful action. He heard Sanji swallow hard, distress etching over his features. "It's unsettling how you…he?...can look at people."

Sanji nodded bitterly, crossing his arms over his chest while Yonji wondered if he'd swallowed the turkey yet. Sanji's hands then went to his face, steepled alongside his nose as everything was now plainly obvious. He felt like he couldn't breathe as his deepest fears were answered. He didn't know what to do, unsure of where to start – if a fire couldn't kill a demon, if it now resided in him – _whatever it was_! – then he didn't know what to do to combat it. It felt like all he could do was accept it.

Ichiji studied him for a few moments, aware of his brother's emotional distress. It looked like Sanji was going to fall apart at any moment, closing his eyes so tightly that it seemed he were trying to escape the present scene. Yonji stopped chewing, looking at him with apprehension before meeting Ichiji's eyes. Niji looked very uncomfortable, his fork full of meat but not lifting it to his mouth.

"What do we do, then, Sanji?" Ichiji asked him.

Sanji didn't know how to answer that. He shifted in his seat, Duval suddenly dropping away from his elbow and walking away from him. Ichiji noticed the dog's behavior, Tony getting up from the floor with an anxious whine as his ears lifted once more. With both of them suddenly on their feet, sitting together as their large heads looked in Sanji's direction, Ichiji refocused on Sanji intently.

"Kill me," he answered softly. "Get rid of me. Somewhere far, far away from other people, so I cannot infect anyone else."

"That's absurd!" Niji exclaimed.

"That's what I thought, too," Sanji said to him, suddenly sitting with confidence, head lowered slightly as his hands took to his utensils. "How does this sort of thing happen, you ask? Listening to the conversation at hand, I couldn't help but want to correct a few things that were just shared. First off, there is only one of me – the other is truly dead. We are not part of him, any longer, so we won't have to hear the drivel he used to speak with regarding his Lord and Savior."

Confused, the brothers just stared at Sanji as he looked down at his plate, and made to eat a few bites.

"This is delicious," he then told Vito, who was unsure of how to answer. "My compliments. The spice here drowns the tongue with delight."

The dogs whined and turned away, heading off into the other room, Yonji looking after them with puzzlement while Niji stared at Sanji keenly. Ichiji wasn't sure what to say first, but with the difference in mannerisms compared to his brother, he understood that it was no longer Sanji speaking with them. He reached out and tugged on Yonji's shirt sleeve to indicate that he pay attention, Yonji looking at him with clueless action.

"Second of all, it's easy to take command when a subject is overly emotional. Are you aware that the cause of multiple personality syndrome is the effect of an abused child's method to escape tremendous amounts of psychological pain? The original victim endured enough of a psychotic stress event that rendered them weak, and the mind, in an effort to rescue self, force creates personalities better suited to deal with the situation at hand. Vinsmoke-ya isn't as strong as I thought he was – it's easy to take his place when something slips past those infuriating food memory boards." Finishing his vegetables, Sanji took another drink of water, setting the cup aside with a smack of his lips. "It also helps that he's choosing to live with those that help compound the issue in the first place. The more stress you put into him to answer you, the easier to allow me to take advantage."

"Which one are you?" Ichiji asked, hesitation in his tone. He thought for sure Sanji would snap at him, react as he usually did to such a question, but the man looking at him while licking his fingers regarded him with lifted eyebrows.

He then chuckled. "I am Law."

" _Bullshit_!" Niji snapped, straightening in his chair. "Knock it off, Sanji!"

"I truly am," Sanji insisted, hand to his chest, but even Niji noticed the difference in behavior, in actions. He felt like he was facing off with someone wearing Sanji's skin, and it absolutely puzzled him. Sanji then looked at the others, wearing a somewhat playful smirk. "Ask me something that you would think Trafalgar Law would answer."

Bewildered, Yonji's mouth opened a few times, coming to same conclusion as Niji as Ichiji looked at the man warily. He set his fork down, clasping his hands atop of the table. Searching his memory as this 'Law' looked from one brother to another, wearing an expectant smile, Ichiji cleared his throat.

"Why did you spare my brother?" he asked, Law looking at him with a light inhale. Despite knowing he was looking at Sanji, Ichiji could not understand how subtle shifts of his expression could render him with someone else's face. The delicate lift of an eyebrow, the furrow between them, the tilt of the head – it all matched the pictures Ichiji had seen of the psychopath.

Reaching out to steal Niji's turkey from his plate with his fork, Law answered lightly, "It was all a mistake, really. I had actually saved him for last, but…Ace-ya had other plans for me. I was surprised Vinsmoke-ya had survived at all, given his…delicate condition. But your brother was actually very clever, Ichiji-ya – he figured out how to keep me out of his head, and it worked. I suppose the game continues…"

" _Bullshit_ ," Yonji said in a low whisper, staring at Law with wide eyes. Despite what he was hearing and seeing, he could not believe that it was actually someone else addressing them from his brother's body.

"I don't know how it works, myself," Law continued, nodding at Yonji. "But here we are. In new flesh. It doesn't matter in the end. What matters is that most of you are altogether. Tell me – when does daddy Vinsmoke arrive?"

" _Never_ ," Ichiji said tightly, tossing his napkin atop of the table. "He's not allowed on these premises."

"That's a shame. As estranged as we are, I was hoping to have a conversation with him," Law told him lightly. "Perhaps we could…patch things up. Get along like a normal family – "

"After what he did to you-to _our_ brother, he'll never have the chance," Ichiji snapped.

Law looked at him with a light chuckle, lifting an eyebrow again. "Of course not. How ill-mannered of me to ask."

Niji pushed away from the table, the sound of chair legs dragging over the floor loud. He didn't know what to say, but he couldn't sit there any longer, facing this stranger.

"Niji! _Sit_!" Ichiji commanded sharply, looking at his younger brother. "This concerns all of us!"

" _Witchery_ ," Niji hissed, glaring at Law. "All of this is pure fuckery! How are you letting this happen, Ichiji?"

"It's not him, I assure you," Law said. "It's not me, either. But I tend to make more sense, so I speak for all of us."

"How many?" Ichiji asked abruptly. "How many of you are there?"

Law rolled his eyes to the ceiling, narrowing his eyes. His hand lifted, held in a different manner than Sanji would hold his. He counted off silently, causing Niji to explode.

"Fuck you!"

"Niji! _Be quiet_!" Ichiji ordered, gesturing at his chair. "Do not show more of your discomfort, here. This is your brother!"

Breathing heavily, unsure of what to do, Niji looked to Ichiji, then Yonji. Yonji looked frozen stiff, lips tight, his expression clearly speaking for him. Being closest to Law, the green haired man looked like he didn't know what to do or say, but he could not relax. After much reluctance, Niji sat. But he did not draw near the table, preferring his distance instead.

Seeing him settle, Law folded his arms atop of the table, leaning forward onto it. "To start, there is Shachi. Please excuse the drawings on the wall upstairs, the fort on the third floor. He's still an imaginative child, and he's been bored without much stimulation. Let's see, I also hear Monkey's voice, and Zoro's antics gets me going, sometimes, that shitbag, and Ace…there's not so much of Ace, as you have electricity running through here. That fire bug tends to be captivated at any type of flame in his proximity – light a candle, I'm sure he'll pop up eventually. But keep it away from his hands – he's destroyed small communities with his excitement – "

He suddenly shoved away from the table, standing up so suddenly that Yonji jumped in his seat. The newest expression on his face rendered the brothers rigid as Sanji's thin chest heaved, face twisted with animosity.

" _Fuck you_!" he shouted, his accent ringing loudly in the dining room. "Fuck you, that was an _accident_!"

"Ichi," Yonji said with discomfort, looking at the eldest brother with trepidation.

"I ain't like that!" Sanji hissed at them, clapping his hands down on the table. "I ain't out of control like that! Don't encourage this asshole by listening to his bullshit!"

" _Who are you_?" Niji cried, horrified at the newest voice, the newest shift of expression.

"Listen, anything this guy tells you is shit! Get out of here! Get out of here before he gets into your head - !"

He jerked suddenly, eking a long, wordless noise, shoulders twitching as he focused up at the lights above them. For several long moments, he stood there, captivated by the electricity powering the panels above their table. Yonji pushed away from the table, stepping away from him as Vito slowly returned to the kitchen, unable to watch, anymore. The heavy shift of his weight caused the floor to squeak, and Sanji's head tilted in his direction, focusing on nothing.

Words failed all of them as they stared at their brother in silence, unsure of what to say or think. Once Ichiji became aware of a growing sound, he realized that the utensils on their plates were vibrating against the ceramic ware, drinks sloshing slightly inside of their confines. A dull buzz built in his ears, and caused him to reach up automatically, sure some sort of insect was flitting around him.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Yonji swiping the air around his head, experiencing the same sort of phenomena as he was. Then Sanji sucked in a breath, shoulders slumping forward before he observed all of them with a rapid blink of his eyes. That now familiar smirk shadowed his features before he found his chair, drew it back to the table, sitting with languid confidence.

He cleared his throat. "My apologies. It appears Penguin is in there, too. He doesn't speak much, you'll have to forgive him. Ace-ya is a fiery man, isn't he? Our conflict continues with each other. He's still upset over me picking on his pretend brother – "

"We're not 'pretending', jerk!" Sanji suddenly exclaimed, hitting the table with a fist, and it was the voice Niji recognized from earlier, from the kitchen. Growling, he glared at Ichiji. "Ace is my brother! We're _brothers_!"

"Playing house is hard to do when the family is full of crazies," Law chuckled.

"This isn't playing! Ace has always watched over me! You fucking jerk! Why do you do this? You don't speak for me, or him!"

" _Ichiji_ ," Yonji whispered, horror on his features as Sanji's features twisted and changed with each different voice speaking out in full personality.

"This is unfair!" Luffy shouted, hitting the table again. His bony fist cracked upon the tabletop, his strength so much more than Sanji's. It was almost as if he were a completely different person, showing off strength that none of the brothers had witnessed him having. Dishes rattled in place, drinks sloshing. "This wasn't supposed to happen! Ace beat you to a fucking pulp!"

"Not enough."

"You _coward_! Come out from where you're hiding, we'll settle this here and now - !"

"I'm right here in front of you, how ridiculous."

Luffy growled, but then his eyes lit upon the spread in front of him. Distracted, he reached for his plate, eating hungrily without the use of the utensils. Before he could take another bite, he forced himself away with a snarl, nearly bringing down the tabletop setting by jerking on the tablecloth.

"That's _mine_ , you little shit! Fuck you!" Law snapped, swinging his arms away from the table, jerking backward. It was almost as if invisible arms had jerked Sanji's frail body away, shoved him violently from the area, limbs swinging around uselessly before he hit the floor with a heavy sound.

Niji left his chair, walking backward to reach his brothers. The three of them just stared at Sanji in mute action, unsure of what to do, how to react to the argument taking place in front of them.

After a few moments of silence, Sanji sat on the floor before picking himself up and leaning over the table with both hands in front of him. He suddenly straightened up with an expression of pain, clutching his hand to him. He collapsed back to the floor, eking sounds of agony as he looked around himself with confusion. Seeing his brothers staring at him with such expressions had him stilling, catching his breath. The intense silence spoke for him.

Having no idea what had been said, what had been done, Sanji nursed his aching hand with the other, feeling it tremble against him. With a struggle, he pulled himself to his feet. Niji left the dining room area, Yonji's fists at his side as Ichiji watched Sanji with uncertainty.

But recognizing the familiar fragility of his younger brother, he smoothly left his chair. He was at his brother's side, despite Yonji's hiss of warning. "Come. You must be exhausted," he said gently, guiding Sanji away from the table.

Sanji didn't have anything to say, helpless to say anything in regards to the new tension in the room. Yonji watched Ichiji lead their brother away from the kitchen, Vito peering out from the kitchen with an expression of apprehension. Somewhere in the distance, Niji cursed, something skittering across the floor with violent force.

: :

"Give me those pills," Sanji told Ichiji as his brother helped him to bed, Vito coming up moments later with chipped ice in a towel. " _Give me those pills_."

Ichiji took the towel from Vito, signaling him to retrieve the medication Sanji ordered. Vito took off hastily to do so, digging keys out from his jacket pocket. As he steadied the cold bundle over Sanji's hand, observing the injury, Sanji hissed in reaction.

But it unsettled Ichiji how helpless and vulnerable his brother was at that moment, reminded of the times back when they were children, and Sanji was whimpering, shaking in bed during one of his periods of 'illness'. Those dark times recalled how stiffly Sanji had held himself as a child, wearing a helpless expression of pain and shock, unable to speak as a nurse tended to him. How Ichiji and the others teased him from the doorway, mocking his illness, never knowing the cause. Now that Ichiji was aware of the abuse, he felt horrible for those times. His memory made clearer now that he was aware of what their father was doing to him, Ichiji now knew why Sanji took bedrest during those times. Why the nurse looked so ill herself.

Remembering that now, Ichiji couldn't help but touch him tenderly, wishing to somehow make up for their childish obliviousness.

"What was said?" Sanji demanded of him, as Vito returned with a glass of water, of pills cupped in one hand. "Make sure there's plenty! More than you think to give! If I sleep, they can't do anything, they need me awake!"

"I've four, here – "

"Give me six of them! Six should do it."

"That'll _kill_ you - !"

"That'll be the best for all of you!' Sanji shouted at Vito impatiently, reaching for what he had. "I need _six_! Hurry up!"

"One more," Ichiji told Vito, who was clearly rattled as he handled down the water, the pills in one hand. As Sanji shoved those in his mouth, gulping from the cup, Vito nodded in response to Ichiji's next gesture – a halved sign. As Vito retreated to follow the order, Ichiji looked back at his brother. He didn't know what to say to give any verbal comfort, but with the others, they could figure out a way to combat this terror.

"Who was it?" Sanji asked Ichiji edgily. "Who was speaking?"

Tightening his lips for a moment, Ichiji answered. "Law."

Sanji frowned, shaking hand over the cold towel. He felt so full from dinner – he knew Luffy had to be responsible for that. Immense frustration caused him to hit himself repeatedly over his stomach, enduring the uncomfortable feel of fullness there; hitting himself for accepting the pills before he could remember to give up what he had eaten. Ichiji stopped him, easily holding that hand up and away from him, and Sanji had to accept the extra calories, the lack of control with a frustrated whine.

" _Stop_ , now," Ichiji told him, holding tightly onto that trembling hand, uncomfortable with the feel of how thin Sanji's wrist was in his grasp. He felt like he could break him on accident, with a simple gesture like this one. He waited for his brother to compose himself, accepting the heavy breathing, the reddened effort in his face.

Expelling air, Sanji used Dr Smoker's advice – counting backwards from twenty, breathing in and out with tremendous effort to drive away the thoughts of failure from eating too much, from having no control over himself. Ichiji held his hand that entire time, as Vito returned with the halved pill. Because he'd spent all his energy, Sanji didn't have enough fight in him to argue with it. He took it as Vito gave it to him, assisting with the cup to his lips.

Already, paralyzing sensation hit his limbs, and his mind was growing fuzzy. Certain that this would work, Sanji felt more control over his irrational panic, looking to Ichiji. He jerked his hand out of his brother's grasp, settled it over the cold towel. Vito adjusted his blankets around him, tucking him into the bed with caring strength.

Sanji didn't know what to say. He wondered if Ichiji was aware of Buggy the Clown. "Lock my door," he told Ichiji. "Hide the keys."

"Vito will – "

"Don't tell me! Just…do it yourself." After a few moments, he asked groggily, "What did he say?"

Ichiji frowned. "They made an appearance. Some…spatting with each other."

" _Who_?"

Ichiji named off the individuals that made an appearance, and Sanji exhaled again, finding it difficult to hold his eyes open. He nodded. "Trust Ace. Luffy. Anybody connected to Wickem – whoever else."

Not sure what he meant, Ichiji nodded just to placate him, and a few minutes later, Sanji was sleeping. He looked at Vito, unsettled by tonight's events. "Hide the keys, somewhere in my room. Retrieve them when he isn't aware of it."

Vito gave a troubled expression. "Wasn't Ace the one that started the fire -?"

"We'll leave that alone. As it is, perhaps hide all the lighting materials. I'm not sure how this all works, it's the first he's spoken of it, but…maybe we can learn as we go."

Vito nodded in response, leaving the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Last chapter for the weekend.**

 **DedicatedFan: Work is important! Work before fics XD It's…definitely like the last story, I'm excited to say. :D So prepare your heart. The brothers are going to do their best, but sometimes, even their best isn't enough. The others will be making appearances here and there, as seen in the last chapter. But…**

 **: 5 :**

"What do we do?" Niji asked Ichiji as he returned to the first floor, carrying the cold towel in both hands. Both he and Yonji wore agitated expressions as Ichiji searched for the dogs, finding them huddled against each other near the front door. "Ichi? What do we do? What the fuck are we supposed to do with all that? Is that all part of him, now? How do you explain that?"

"It wasn't part of his file," Ichiji said slowly. "I'm uncertain where to start. He was never diagnosed with any part of…such disorder. But he truly believes he is…possessed."

"Is that the right word? ' _Possessed'_? Are we dealing with some sort of ghoul, here, or what?"

"Calm yourself, Niji," Ichiji admonished him, moving towards one of the chairs that faced the fireplace. He turned it around, to face the stairway. Once he was settled, he ran the dinner scene through his thoughts, unsure of what to make of it. He could conclude, with some discomfort, that this was not Sanji acting out. All the individuals that had made themselves known were just that – individuals. He wasn't familiar with the concept of multiple personality disorders, and knew he would have to research the topic to understand it.

"He believes in it," he said slowly. "He truly believes that he is…all of those…"

"I can't even bend my mind over what just happened," Yonji said, bracing himself over the couch. "But it did. All those voices? And every time someone spoke up…he changed. Like he was different people, and – and what does it mean? Is that guy, somehow, doing this to kill him, or…?"

"I'm not sure," Ichiji replied. "I suppose we'll have to pry further in the morning. He demanded sleeping pills, and requested that we lock the door, hide the keys. As it seems each personality is aware of each other, I…I…suggest we watch what we say. From what it seems, this…Law is in control. From the way he degraded…this….Ace, Luffy…Zoro? Not….not so much. But those…there appears to be some malice between…between them."

Speaking of it was difficult. Being witness of the changing personalities, the switching of accents, voices, _personas_ , from the very form of their brother, rendered Ichiji nearly speechless; his mind had trouble accepting what he saw, heard.

"They're the other patients that died, right?" Niji demanded with an incredulous expression. "How is it possible, then? Are they ghosts, or something? Is this something the church needs involvement in?"

Ichiji was at a loss for words, but he recalled the dinner conversation from the night before. "This personality expressed that perhaps a priest is needed to exorcise him. I'm unfamiliar with the process."

"Jesus Christ, find some Holy Water, then!" Yonji snapped. "Toss it on him! Might that help?"

"I've heard of these things, but I just think it's a bunch of rubbish," Niji said. "This thing I experienced today, it was – _hideous_! He somehow made himself taller! Bigger! He had the strength unlike him! He broke your door!"

"I saw that."

"Niji, your hysterics are not helping the situation," Ichiji admonished.

"I can't help it! I was _attacked_! By something I can't explain!"

Ichiji exhaled shortly. Because he couldn't explain it, either, he stood from the chair. "I will call Dr Hina myself."

"What do we do, then? Is that it, for the night?" Yonji asked uncomfortably. "We're not going to wake up stabbed in our beds, right?"

"No." But Ichiji had no confidence in that answer. The other two picked up on it. Chewing his nails fitfully, Niji paced the floor while Yonji wore a worried look. Pointing at the dogs, Ichiji added, "They can sense it. All we can do is watch them."

Yonji looked at Niji. "Let me sleep with you, tonight."

"No way!" Niji exclaimed. "You'd take up most of my bed!"

" _C'mon_! My door's broken!"

"Both of you, knock it off," Ichiji snapped. "I have a feeling that showing any sign of fear, or weakness, to these…people will be your downfall. We have to remain strong, for Sanji. He sacrificed himself to father's sick needs, we must try and keep that in mind when it comes to this."

Wearing shamed expressions, both brothers lost their bluster, looking at everything but each other and him. Ichiji fiddled with the sleeves of his shirt before he rose from his chair.

"Put up something heavy against your door," he suggested to Yonji. "I'll make the call to Dr Hina. Hopefully she's available."

As he walked off towards the phone, Niji elbowed Yonji, who shoved him back. Both of them then looked up at the stairway, where the darkness seemed more ominous than it did, before.

: :

Sometime in the night, Niji became aware of the creaking hinges of a door opening. He had trouble sleeping, hours after dinner, and so when the noise broke over the nighttime silence, it rendered his body with a jolt. Unsure of where it came from, Niji expected to hear a grumble from Yonji, a misstep from Ichiji, but nothing came. Long after the sound cried out, Niji started to think he hadn't heard anything at all. The lengthy amount of time that followed assured him that he was only hearing things, and he relaxed back down onto his bed, exhaling slowly.

But he heard the creak of footfalls in the hall, careful effort that told Niji someone was moving towards the stairway. As it creaked with movement, Niji told himself he was hearing one of his brothers going to kitchen for something to drink. He waited to hear the dogs following in anticipation of a snack or meal, but the absence of whines or scratch of nail on door made him reconsider that. He told himself it was Vito, the butler unnerved, double checking the house in case he missed something.

But as the sound faded, he became aware of thumps coming from above him. The sound of weight hitting the floor, followed by light, running steps that suggested a child was moving about. He sat up once again, hearing the sound creep across the floor above him. After several long seconds of silence, he heard the murmur of voices. Because of the distance, he couldn't tell who was talking. A woman's gentle laughter chilled his bones. Biting his bottom lip, he rose from the bed and ventured to the door. Opening it carefully, cringing at the sound of the hinges creaking, he waited a few moments for a response from someone – _anyone_ – and flipped on the light switch. Light poured out into the hallway, giving it a soft glow. Holding his breath, he peered out, and saw with horror that Sanji's door was wide open. From his position, he could see that the bed was empty.

He closed the door, taking the extra seconds to lock it as stealthily as he could. Pushing away from it, he searched for something heavy to push against it. He felt a little silly for doing this, but after that afternoon, he wasn't about to be caught unprepared, again. Just a visual of Sanji's face, that unnatural voice leaving him in a savage bellow, made his blood run cold.

He turned to look for the chest that kept some of his childhood things, some articles of clothing, pushed up against the foot of his bed. He figured that was of considerable weight to use, and as he moved to it, something trickled across the back of his neck. He turned to look at the door, just in time for his light to flick off. What he had noticed, though, was that his door was wide open. He straightened up with a start, straining to see through the darkness to see better. The soft light that emerged came from one of the windows down the hall, allowing in the full moon from outside.

He froze, pretty sure he hadn't heard the door open. Sure he had locked it. A soft thump from above him caused his heart to lurch up to his throat, and Niji turned, moving towards his bedside stand, searching for a lighter, for the candle that he knew was sitting atop of his dresser. Fumbling hands moved noisily through the drawer until he found the shape, and then he was lurching towards the dresser, tripping over his own boots, over the carpet, cursing because he couldn't see his path clearly. Once he found the candle, he lit it hastily, then turned and looked towards the door. The light illuminated a closed door, and he sucked his lips between his teeth. He almost cursed aloud, sure that his mind was playing tricks on him.

He moved back to his bed, quite aware of the shadows cast from his candle. As he set it atop of his bedside stand, something moved to his left, and he glanced over, expecting to see his own shadow, but was startled to see Sanji standing there instead, watching the dancing flame with a mesmerized expression.

" _Fuck_!" Niji shouted out loud, the sound bursting through the silence. Sanji didn't look at him, though, shadows dancing over his bony face as his hands hung at his sides. "Get out of here!"

Saying nothing, Sanji's eyes flicked in his direction before returning to the candle. In a moment of clarity, Niji remembered Law saying something about this Ace drawn to fire. Was this person Ace? Should he address him? Swallowing tightly, Niji watched him before he reached for the candle, feeling it shake in his hand before he held it firmly. Sanji's eyes followed it as Niji held onto it, and as the light casted over him, the difference of his features giving Niji sight of a man slightly, older, his droopy eyes blinking quickly as flamed danced against the wick.

"…Ace?" Niji whispered, feeling foolish for saying it.

He was aware of the man's breathing – shallow, slight, the bones of Sanji's chest visible just within the open collar of his shirt. But when his name was uttered, his eyes twitched, as if acknowledging the sound leaving Niji.

"Ace," Niji repeated, a little firmly, hiding the flame behind one hand.

Ace's eyes shifted to him, focused on him. Then he exhaled heavily. "Get out of here. Leave us here."

"A-all of you?" Niji asked, frowning.

"Look, lemme tell ya something," Ace said, stepping towards him, Niji stiffening at his nearness. "Let me tell you – all of us ain't the same! We ain't the same person! All of us has different strengths, weaknesses, and even if you say something to one, not all of them will know. You understand?"

" _No_ ," Niji admitted, confused.

"That fucking asshole knows more, and is more controlling than the other three. But he can't always hear us, and that's your advantage. Use code talking to Sanji – use that to make sure it's him!"

Sputtering, Niji tried to understand what was being said. But at that moment, Ace stepped towards him, reaching for his hands. With a wild jerk backwards, Niji kept the candle back, covering one side of the flame with one hand. Ace watched, captivated, before looking once more at him. He shook his head slightly.

"That was an accident," he insisted low, guilt wringing at his features. His hands shook as he settled them into fists. "All of it, was. I ain't no goddamn firebug!"

"GET OUT!"

Without saying anything more, Ace turned and walked out of his room, hitting the door on the way out. Once outside, he cursed, banging into something. "Fuck, it's dark out here!"

"Niji?" Ichiji called out, Niji hurriedly racing to his door, looking out. He didn't see Sanji anywhere, but he heard the sound of movement atop of a bed, so he assumed Sanji returned to his room. Taking the steps necessary to Ichiji's room, Niji twisted the knob, glancing around himself apprehensively. "I'm up here!"

Looking with apprehension towards the staircase nearby, Niji felt some relief hit him at the sound of his older brother's voice coming from the floor above. Those sounds earlier made sense. Maybe Ichiji decided to investigate the claim that 'Shachi' had made a fort, drawn on the walls. Eager for his presence, Niji headed upstairs, taking the stairs two at a time. He reached out to flick on the hallway lights, and stopped short at the sight before him.

The walls were colored with words, drawings. There were dark footprints atop of the ceiling, walking from one end of the hall to the other. At the very end of the hallway was a construction of pillows, bedroom chairs, couch cushions, with sheets draped over it that provided a childish fort. Around it were handwritten invitations for one to enter.

 _Climb in here_ , one said, an arrow pointed at a narrow opening.

 _Top secret_! _Enter at own risk_! _Only the manliest of men can enter_!

"Ichi?" Niji called out, voice a little weak as he caught sight of the words nearest him.

 _What a baby_ … _boo hoo!_ _You're always sick! What a weakling, always in bed!_

He exhaled shakily, wondering how the maids were going to take cleaning up this mess. But in the far corners of his mind, he could hear those same words, uttered with his own voice. Looking at the others, he felt his chest tightening.

 _Daddy's boy_! _You're daddy's boy_! _Little baby boo hoo_!

He remembered taunting Sanji, years ago, with those same phrases. Was this Sanji's sick sense of humor? Was it one of _them_ writing this?

"I'm in here!" Ichiji said, his voice coming from the end of the hall. From the fort. Niji looked at it with apprehension, unsure of how his brother could fit himself in there. Unable to picture his serious, stiff, older brother crawling through the narrow opening to enter. It took several moments before he realized that the candle had been blown out, smoke wafting up into the air. He hadn't moved from the staircase.

"Come out here," Niji said, clearing his throat to do so. " _Come out here_. I'm not going near that thing."

"Don't be such a baby," Ichiji scoffed.

"Goddamn it, this is fucking creepy!"

"That person warned us that this was here. I couldn't sleep, so I decided to see for myself. Come over here, Niji. There's more in here."

"Ah…fuck that," Niji muttered, clutching the candle holder tightly. " _Fuck that_. I ain't doing it."

Sheets rustled, as if Ichiji were moving around in there. He saw the shape of a head poking up from beneath the sheets before it disappeared, cushions shifting dangerously. A pillow fell from a chair as movement dictated shifting inside. From an opening caused between cushions, near the back of a chair, he saw the shape of a face peering at him from the darkness.

Niji decided he was going to kick the thing down. He charged ahead, eyes flicking from left to right, catching the scrawls on the walls. The closer he came to the fort, the more the expressions on the walls changed; from childish taunts to words related to pain.

 _It hurts! I'm scared I'm scared, stop I'm scared_

 _Shh shh shh be quiet. Be good_.

 _Try harder_. _You're not making me happy._

Hearing his breathing intensify, sure that he could hear these things being read aloud in a small, childish voice, Niji strode towards the fort. The open doors of the rooms around him showed him unmoving darkness, shapes of furniture. The sheets rustled again, the shape of a head pushing up towards the center of the fort before disappearing.

Once he reached it, he cocked a foot back, prepared to kick it down when a hand shot out and grabbed his supporting ankle, yanking him so hard that he was rendered off balance, dropping back onto the floor. He dropped the candle, wax splattering over the wall. Fingers gripped his ankle tight, and he was yanked towards the fort, a maddened male giggle sounding out as Niji fought to right himself. Terror and panic had him uttering short noises as he reached out to stop himself, grabbing hold of the runner. The carpet piece pulled towards him with a rustle, useless.

Then he was yanked into complete darkness, the fort falling around him.

: :

The next morning, Ichiji woke first, with the heavy, uneasy feeling that something was utterly wrong. Lifting his head from the pillow, he looked around himself. The early morning light illuminated only a sliver of his room due to his shut curtains, and gave him vague lighting to see that it was empty. He'd only locked his door, wanting to act fast if something were wrong, so when he looked at it, he didn't see anything out of place. Pushing up to sit, he reached for his glasses, sliding them on as he listened. He could hear the faint sounds of the grandfather clock downstairs, and the clock on his bedside stand told him it was too early for Vito to be awake. Another scan around the room told him that the dogs were huddled up against the far corner, looking at him with apprehension. The moment he saw them, the smells hit him. They had released their bowels somewhere, and Ichiji gave them a look of disgust.

He climbed out of bed, careful of where he stepped. Opening the curtains allowed him more lighting, and he saw that the only place they'd soiled was where they were sitting. Tony whined, then quieted quickly, Duval ducking his head behind him. Both of them looked as they tried hiding behind each other, locked up in Great Dane limbs. Ichiji threw on his robe and decided to investigate this feeling of wrongness. Leaving his room after finding the keys Vito had left for him, the sounds of the grandfather clock grew louder, and the silence of the house gave him no clue as to what it was that felt out of place. His ears buzzed with the suspicion that he wasn't alone in the hall, and he looked from right to left, struggling to keep himself settled. Venturing towards Sanji's room, he unlocked it and took the efforts necessary to keep the door quiet as he looked in on him. His brother was lying in the same position that Ichiji and Vito had left him in, and out of concern, Ichiji walked in close.

In his condition, it was hard to tell if Sanji were still alive. Ichiji couldn't hear him breathe, and his moves were so minimal, that Ichiji reached down and touched his neck pulse point, pressing in firmly to find it. Once he felt the reassuring beats under his fingers, Ichiji stepped away from him. He then looked around the room, seeing that nothing was out of place.

He couldn't shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong, and left Sanji's room, closing the door behind him. He ventured towards Yonji's room, feeling the catch of something heavy against it. He knocked on it instead.

"It's me," he said, when he heard his younger brother's grumble.

"What's wrong?" Yonji asked, the rustling of sheets, the squeak of the bed telling Ichiji that he was getting up.

"I don't know," Ichiji confessed. "I'm just checking on everyone."

"That does not make me feel better," he heard Yonji mumble, the creak of the floor telling him that his younger brother was moving.

Ichiji then ventured to Niji's room, and found that the door was opened slightly. He pushed it in and saw that his room was empty – the bed made. Puzzled, Ichiji walked in, looking around himself. He saw that the candle was missing from the dresser, and the bedside drawer was open.

Yonji yawned noisily as he stopped at the doorway. "Where's Niji?"

"Doesn't look like he slept," Ichiji observed, with trouble. He gestured outside. "Is the bathroom empty?"

Yonji looked over his shoulder. "Yeah. Nobody in there. You think he left?"

That made Ichiji frown. Niji was impulsive, and after yesterday's events, he couldn't seem to settle himself. In a way, Ichiji wouldn't feel bothered by the abandonment. But the feeling that hung over him made him think that he was wrong.

"I don't feel good, either," Yonji then said, touching his stomach. "Like…there's an ugly feeling like…like something happened."

Faintly relieved that it wasn't just him, Ichiji acknowledged this with a nod. "Let's look around. I'll wake Vito up."

Minutes later, when their search through the first two floors gave them nothing, the dogs whining persistently at the doors and Vito intending on letting them out, the pair made their way up to the third floor.

Once at the hallway, both of them stared at the mess with horror. Ichiji examined the words written on the walls, the footprints on the ceiling. Yonji stared down at the fort, feeling extremely uneasy about it. But the candle lying up against the wall told Ichiji that his suspicions were confirmed.

" _Fuck_ ," Yonji whispered, eyeing the words all around him with apprehension. "You think Sanji did this?"

"He's still asleep. I had to unlock his room to look in on him. The lock only applies to the outside, only, so he can't get out," Ichiji answered shallowly, recognizing some of the phrases used on the wall. It hit him in the gut how these expressions were those they'd used at children to taunt Sanji. The closer they grew to the fort, the more the words changed.

 _Don't tell don't tell the others_

 _I'm not happy_

 _Try harder_

 _Don't make me mad_

 _Stop_

 _Please stop_

 _It hurts_

"I'm out of here," Yonji decided, turning and marching back towards the stairway.

" _Yonji_!" Ichiji exclaimed as his younger brother took the stairs two at a time. "Vito!"

Once he heard Vito's hurrying footfalls, the butler emerging from the stairway and looking around himself with horror, Ichiji felt less apprehensive than before. The butler's face had gone stark white, but he took the steps necessary to reach his master's side, and Ichiji ventured closer to the fort.

After reading the invitations on the walls, both of them paused just a foot away from the mess. Vito started to sweat as Ichiji studied it, taking a few moments to steady himself before he reached out and pulled the sheets up and off from the fort. Cushions fell, pillows tumbling to the floor. In the space inside was a single key.

"Ah - !" Vito cut himself off, recognizing it. He looked for his keys, Ichiji looking at his, Vito then bending and snatching it off the floor. "It's the key to the attic, Master."

Apprehensively, Ichiji took it from him. Seeing how Vito trembled, utterly unaware how it had escaped his possession, didn't relieve him any further. Ichiji turned and headed towards the stairway, Vito trailing after him, wringing his hands. They ventured up to the last floor, which was smaller than the others, settled only with the attic space. Fitting the key into the lock, Ichiji unlocked it and pushed the door open, revealing the storage space for some of his furniture, boxed documents, all cluttered together in solemn towers within the middle of the room. This formation left the walls open, the small windows providing the light they needed to find Niji slumped against the very back wall, hands in front of him.

Ichiji hurried over with a startled expression, Vito dashing after him, both of them reaching the blue haired man in moments.

" _Niji_! Are you okay - ?" Ichiji started to ask, lifting his head and then dropping it with a startled shout, jerking backward, tripping on his own actions. Vito released a horrified cry, wheeling backwards as well.

Turning to escape the horrors of this attic, Vito turned to run, but the towering collection of furniture and boxes within the center of the room had the remains of Niji's lower jaw, tongue and trachea pinned to the back of an armoire, with a shape rendered around it. The drawing of Niji in a childish hand depicted the quadruplet in the middle of a taunt –

 _Big baby boo hoo_!, read the word bubble.

Ichiji caught sight of the picture, struggling to get to his feet. His mouth hung open in horror, hardly able to believe his own eyes. The drawing of Niji was dark black, trails of extra ink dripping to the floor, pooling down below. From the smell of it, he realized it wasn't ink at all. Now that he was aware of it, he realized that there were handprints leading from the armoire to one of the windows, where more prints were available. Their shape told him they weren't that of a man's. Just off to the left were the words, 'Meat sack! Meat sack!'

'Decorum lacking – look into improvement,' were the words Ichiji caught below an angle against the roof, rendered in the same coloring as used on the wall.

Near the doorway, missed upon their entrance, were the words, 'Where's your daddy, now?'

Managing to get to his feet, he grabbed Vito and pulled him out with him while the butler sputtered wordless sound, horror engulfing his every breath. Together, they hurried downstairs, where Yonji looked at them with terror, seeing their state. Unable to speak, Ichiji shook his head repeatedly, Vito pushing his way out of the house for air. Seeing all of this, Yonji didn't need to ask if they'd found him.


	6. Chapter 6

**RR: I think there's a disturbance in the force, because it seems to be a thing, right now : ( I don't know how that works, but if a notification didn't come up, now, I'll do my best to see what I can do! What I'm doing is writing as much of a document as I can on my work computer and editing on my phone, and it IS TOUGH OMG I'm missing my laptop so bad! Hope the creeps continue with each chapter!**

 **DedicatedFan: Horror is one of my faves! I'm a huge fan of good horror fics (the Babadook, anyone?), and I try to convey that same sort of stuff here. With the insertion of another character (ah!), we'll see what *can be done…which isn't much. D: Ace will have to reach out for somebody else once he's aware of it!**

 **: 6 :**

Sanji's hands were shaking as he held his cigarette in one hand, hearing the sounds of the coroner working alongside the police that were gathered at the front door of the house. He was very aware of the accusation in the air as his brother's body was removed, but he had nothing to say in response to it. There was nothing he could do. What was done was done.

Duval sat at his side, panting lightly, Tony lying in the grass near his feet. Seated in the grass near the laundry lines, Sanji didn't feel his presence was required, but he could feel all the stares in his direction.

As far as he was concerned, he had no answers for the questions that hung in the air. He had taken the pills, he was asleep. He only woke because the police sergeant wanted to question all of them, and while it was quite obvious Sanji was still under the effects of the sleeping pills, because he'd survived Wickem, he knew the suspicion hung on his shoulders.

Deep down inside of him, he did not care about Niji's death. He'd separated himself from his brothers a long time ago. The only true feeling he felt at the moment was resignation.

 _Ha! Ha_! Someone laughed, deep within his thoughts; he couldn't tell who it had been.

He thought about breakfast. About whether or not oatmeal would be sufficient, if he should include fruit in it. The voices tried to reach him, but it was easy to talk himself over them. Fruit had sugar in it – maybe he should cut those out, too, but at the same time, with how much trouble he had expelling his food, fruit made it easier –

"Sanji."

He didn't look up, the dogs' wagging their tails, straightening up from their positions to stand at alert. When the officer presented himself by crouching down in front of him, Sanji was familiar with him. But there was nothing he could give him, either.

" _What_ ," he growled, feeling himself heat with anxiety. "I don't know anything! I was _asleep_ the entire time! Vito gave me sleeping pills! Don't ask me what I fucking know when _I don't know anything at all_!"

"I wasn't," Officer Rob Lucci said smoothly. He wore the basic black uniform of the island's police force, but had a lightweight black scarf around his collar, with the image of a white pigeon near the labels. "I was only going to ask if you were alright."

Sanji crinkled his brow, giving him a disgusted stare. "You came to pry. Play your stupid mind games into trying to see if I was involved. _I wasn't_!"

"The MO is Trafalgar Law's, right?"

"Fuck if I know! All I know is that he's dead!"

Lucci studied him for a few moments, then stood, sliding his hands into his pockets. Sanji drew in nicotine, and Lucci noticed his hands shaking. He asked, "Did you eat, yet?"

"What the fuck does it matter to you? After all this, I ain't hungry!"

"Morning meal happens to revive your metabolism. I'm sure it's important to you."

Huffing, Sanji glared off into the distance. Duval sat close to him, nudging his shoulder, resting his head there. Tony sat in front, looking up at Lucci with lifted ears, as if asking him to repeat himself. After a few moments, Lucci said, "Have you spoken with Dr Hina, lately?"

Sanji wondered why it mattered, now. "No."

"It'll probably be useful. The death of one son will prompt your father's attention," Lucci said, walking away, Sanji freezing as he acknowledged those words.

The apprehension and fear he felt filled him with such cold rigidity that his fingers tightened around the cigarette, crushing it, the ember burning his palm. Duval whined against him, licking his hair, pushing his large body against him while Tony looked up at Sanji with worried eyes. Just as he acknowledged their comfort, the dogs suddenly darted away from him, tails tucked between their legs. He stood up, looking after Lucci as the officer caught sight of the Great Danes making a hasty getaway.

"Did you tell him yourself?" he asked, Lucci pausing in mid step to look back at him.

"No. That's for another department to follow through, unless Ichiji did so, already," he answered, noting the difference in Sanji's stance. The sickly man was dressed in layers to brave the outside, with a light blanket over his shoulders. His head bobbled as he looked around himself, as if surveying the outside for the first time. Lucci found himself wondering, for the countless time, how this man was still alive.

With noticeable hesitation, Sanji asked, "Will…will he come here?"

"Would you like that?" Lucci asked, watching Sanji as he walked towards him. He examined the man's expression as the coroner's wagon left the front walkway. "Having your father near?"

"Niji _was_ our brother," Sanji told him, adjusting the blanket around his shoulders.

"I'm sure it'll be troublesome for you."

"This is a time of grief. Niji…was murdered."

Lucci examined what he could of the property, feeling his hair catch the morning breeze. He tucked his hands into his pockets as he felt Sanji's unblinking stare on his face. He said, "There are court orders preventing Judge's presence on Ichiji's estate. He wouldn't show up, here, but he would be notified. Your brother was thoughtful enough to keep a preferable distance from him on your behalf."

"We should be together, supporting each other as a family. Tell me," Sanji scanned his chest for his nametag, which caused Lucci's eyebrow to raise ever so slightly, " _Lucci_. You seem the cool, calculating type. Are you new to the island?"

Lucci felt his hands fist in his pockets as awareness dawned on him. He inhaled lightly.

"Yes," he said.

Sanji seemed to smirk a little, and it was such an intense difference to the man Lucci had gotten to know that the police officer couldn't help but be on alert. "With the unusual events here on the property, considering my notoriety, will you be assigning any form of protection upon us?"

"No," Lucci answered, watching him closely.

"Ah…that's too bad," Sanji said, watching the activity unfold at the front porch. Where his brothers were being interviewed, Vito still a mess, wringing his handkerchief. "The killer is on the loose, and we're expected to watch over ourselves."

"Not that it should bother you any, right? Because you don't care."

"I don't," Sanji agreed, walking away from him, heading to see for himself what was happening. Lucci watched him, then called out for him to wait. Turning to look back at the officer that regarded him with a blank expression, Sanji waited for him to speak.

"Where are you going?"

"I should be with my brothers, right now. I had only needed some fresh air."

"We documented the messages wrote on the walls," Lucci said. "It's not your handwriting, is it?"

"Of course not!"

"It's not Niji's, either."

Sanji licked his dry lips. "I am a suspect, I understand."

Lucci found his behavior so odd, for he'd never gotten this far with Sanji Vinsmoke. The walking skeleton often threw fits at any hints of the Wickem incident. But Lucci's skin was rippling with unease, and he knew how to press. "Most of it feels like Trafalgar's MO. It's also not that unusual for a damaged victim to repeat his predator's crimes."

Sanji gave him a waning smile. "But I haven't preyed on any children, officer. So that theory is unsound."

Lucci found that smile unsettling; even more so with the content of which Sanji had spoken of. It was only hinted, never brought to light, the accusations against the Vinsmoke's patriarch. He took a breath to speak as Sanji tried to coax the dogs to him, the animals remaining far out of his reach. "But the main matter is that Trafalgar is dead. The entire police department sent him off with a personal viewing. All of them consoled by the fact that a murderer was…removed."

"In past instances, Trafalgar knew closely of the investigations involving him," Lucci then said, taking a couple of steps closer towards him. "It was as if he were at the scene, himself. Not only was he the cause of the scene, but he knew how the investigations worked. Personal knowledge dictated that he knew details some of the officers on scene at Wickem noted."

"Are you prying into me, officer? Officer…Lucci? Are you a qualified quack like…Smoker? Hina? Akainu? I'm starting to feel a little…violated."

"You would know how that feels, wouldn't you, Sanji?"

Sanji frowned at him, expression tightening for a few moments before his brow furrowed, and he looked at Lucci with a startled gesture. He looked around himself with a sort of horrified expression before looking at Lucci's puzzled frown. Once Sanji realized how close he was to the house, he stalked away, flushing red. Lucci watched him go, ruffled.

: :

When the house emptied later that afternoon, Ichiji sat in the study, staring at the phone. Yonji sat across from him; two brothers that couldn't manage a word after what had happened. The house's silence seemed immense, thick, and neither of them could finish a single thought. Vito was nearby, back to them, waiting for word from either. The dogs, sensing the troubling atmosphere, lingered in the main hall, keeping quietly still.

Yonji looked away from his clasped hands, looking at Ichiji. "What are we going to do?" he asked on a low whisper.

Ichiji wasn't sure where to start. He'd never thought that this would happen. Never fathomed that it were possible, those things that had happened the night before, and he found himself wondering, for the countless time, what had happened to Niji. Recalling bits and pieces of yesterday, Niji had been mouthy – that was his personality.

'Decorum is lacking', the walls had said.

The hallway detailed everything that pointed fingers to Judge.

It was hard not to think that Sanji was behind this. All that rage had to go somewhere if he weren't taking it out on himself. He was the only witness to what had happened in Wickem. It was suggested he was Law's accomplice. All the information he refused to give, somewhere, in the midst of it, was an answer.

Ichiji looked down at his hands. "I don't know, Yonji. The police are looking closely at Sanji, again, but…Vito and I could verify that…he was asleep this morning. Dead asleep."

"Yes, but - !"

"And his door was locked – it locks only from the outside. You were there the day I made those arrangements for that particular lock!" Ichiji bit the inside of his cheek. "I don't know what to do."

Yonji stared at him in silence, face pinched. Then he exhaled heavily. "I don't know how I slept through it, Ichiji. I don't know how I slept through all the noise – there _had_ to be noise. There had to be all sorts of noise if – if Niji was like that. I'm not a heavy sleeper."

"I, as well. The dogs…" Ichiji looked to Tony and Duval, both of whose heads perked up hopefully. "Only they are aware of things."

Yonji gave a short burst of laughter. "Then, _what_ , we use them? Rely on them? They're canaries, right?"

Ichiji bit his lip before saying, "Tonight, when we sleep…take one of them with you."

"Is that it? That's…that's all? Like…"

"I don't know what else to say, Yonji! You saw what happened last night! Sanji has no clue what's happening - !"

"How do we even know that's a real act?" Yonji hissed at him. With his outburst, his face took on a panicked tone. "Look at that shit on the walls! All of it is shit we said to him when we were kids!"

Ichiji clenched his jaw tightly. He could not deny that.

"It's _him_ , Ichi," Yonji insisted, rising from the couch. "He did that!"

"With _what_ strength?" Ichiji challenged him. "Look at him, Yonji! There's nothing to him! Niji is as strong as you are, there is no possible way Sanji could physically overpower him!"

"Then what about last night? How do you explain that shit? I watched him throw himself away from the table, like someone had grabbed him and – how do you explain that fuckery?"

"I can't," Ichiji told him. "I was there, too, and…none…none of that made sense. It was not documented in his file - !"

"Fuck the file! He's the only one that walked away from that scene, and, just like you say, there's no way he should've! Not under those conditions, not with that body. What if he was the one to have actually done it? There are no other survivors to say that he wasn't behind it, _and_ ," he stressed over Ichiji as Ichiji opened his mouth to speak, "even Dr Hina, Smoker, _has said_ , in those notes you have, that he's capable of exceptional strengths when his rage takes over! We've seen those fights! We've _been_ in those fights! He _can_ hurt us! Being close to Trafalgar, what if he took over where that guy left off? We don't know what sort of friendship they had if everyone close to them is dead!"

"For whatever reason? He still denies any sort of connection to Trafalgar!"

"Then why is he _acting_ like him?" Yonji hissed. "Why is he pretending to be him?"

"This disorder is the reason for these sanatoriums, Yonji. Those doctors were doing their best to break it down, figure it out!"

"If it wasn't in his file in the first place, then why is he claiming it now? _Huh_?"

Ichiji couldn't answer any of those questions. He felt Yonji had fair points. As estranged as they were from Sanji, they didn't know what was going through his head. This 'Law's' conversation with them last night explained what this disorder meant, but doubt consumed him, due to the circumstances. Because Sanji refused to talk. Because the details left behind in his own house said otherwise.

But he still couldn't help but think of that day when he visited Wickem to deny Dr Hina's request to transfer Sanji to their care, when Law addressed them as two different people.

He exhaled heavily. Yonji paced with agitation on the carpet, Vito looking over, waiting to see Ichiji's response.

"Get rid of him, then," Yonji suggested. "Give him to the police. Let them figure it out."

It was sound logic. But Ichiji thought of all the work he'd put in securing his own property, privately warred with their father, and felt that it had been wasted. At the same time, pride battled his logic.

 _It's not him_!

The whisper was vague – it could have been something uttered by someone outside, someone on another floor, but Ichiji heard it. His brow furrowed as his skin rippled, tuning himself to the silence left behind.

 _It wasn't him_!

He looked around himself with unease, rubbing his arms. Tony stood up, ears on alert, looking in his direction. The quiet 'woof!' that left him caused Yonji to stop pacing, looking at him. Seeing the Great Dane posed as he was caused him to jerk his head around to look in Ichiji's direction, looking frantically for whatever it was that made the dog react.

Seeing the animal's response confirmed Ichiji's feeling that he had heard something unusual. He waited for something more, something else that could help him prepare an argument against Yonji's suggestion.

At that moment, though, Sanji walked into the study from the living room, both brothers looking his way. A quick glance at the dogs showed Ichiji their hasty retreat from the room, heads down.

That uneasiness grew as Sanji looked from one brother to the other, lips cradling a toothpick he'd picked up from the kitchen. His expression was worn differently, today, with a harder brow, a stiff chin, eyes that didn't seem to miss a thing. Even his body language presented a different picture.

"Vinsmoke," he said, rather gruffly, looking at Ichiji.

" _Knock it off_!" Yonji bellowed at him. "Knock off this fucking act!"

Sanji's eyes narrowed in his direction, switching his toothpick from one side to the other. His eye seemed to twitch, head jerking slightly, as if listening to something away from him. But he settled.

"That's a sound idea," he told Ichiji. "Dump him off at the island jail, where the local thugs could have their way of justice with him. He won't last long. Saves you the loss of your lives here in your own home, where you're supposed to be safe. Keeps you from dirtying your hands yourself. It'll be your best choice to get rid of him, prevent any more deaths."

Ichiji's face reddened.

"Does the idea make you sick?"

After some hesitation, Ichiji asked, "Whom am I talking to?"

Sanji pushed out his hand to shake, and Ichiji was so thrown by the gesture, his own stiff behavior dictating that he return the gesture. The strength in that grip wasn't his brother's; there were calluses that weren't present on Sanji's hands, and it threw Ichiji off to the immense difference that he had nothing to say as Sanji retreated his hand after. Yonji watched with a bewildered expression.

"The name's Smoker. I worked with your brother, with Trafalgar. But I understand what it looks like. Of course, with neither of you having any sort of knowledge of the mental illnesses I worked with, it's understandable that you can't wrap your mind on this one. It confuses me, too."

" _Ichiji_!" Yonji shouted, wearing a stunned expression. Then he growled, striding towards Sanji, fists lifted, and he made to strike – but Sanji snatched one of those fists from motion, and twisted around him, his arm held firmly into a locking hold. He slammed his younger brother into the wall, restraining him easily. Ichiji and Vito left their chairs, hardly able to believe their eyes as Yonji struggling painfully against the unnatural strength holding him there.

"But there's no way about it, now," Smoker added, chewing on his toothpick. He released Yonji, pushing him away while the man stumbled, reaching out to rub feeling back into his arm. With a complacent gait, he turned away from Yonji, to walk to the center of the room. "No saving him. This is not a mental illness belonging to Sanji. I'm without imagination, myself, but the shit that happened in there wasn't the work of one man. He's not a man at all. No telling what it is, to be honest. Didn't seem like God could give a hand when we needed Him. Even Sengoku's prayers went unanswered."

He twitched again, shoulders jerking. But he somehow retained his stance, breathing a little tightly. The toothpick crunched between his teeth, and he spit it out. Looking at Ichiji, his expression was concentrated, some internal effort happening that he couldn't quite vocalize.

"He'll understand," he told Ichiji. "He'll understand what you have to do. There's nothing we can do in here to stop them. Whatever _they_ are, they're in control. Whatever agenda they have, I can't hear any of it. But do whatever it is you have to do to get rid of him, before they get rid of you."

Before Ichiji could say anything, Sanji blinked rapidly, noticing Ichiji staring at him with a stunned expression. Once he caught sight of Yonji looking at him accusingly, Vito's troubled frown, he knew he'd walked into something that wasn't of his control. Without warning, Yonji strode towards him, making to swing at him. Panicked, Sanji kicked him, but his foot bounced off his guarding arm with startling ease, and he ended up curling his arms around his head as Yonji hit him. Seeing the lack of strength Sanji had now, the forceful way his younger brother attacked, Ichiji was out of his chair and wrapping his arms around Yonji, forcing him away. In that moment of time, Sanji swung wildly to hit Yonji, cursing at him, Vito hastily leaving his chair to help. For a few minutes, Sanji raged against them, shouting and cursing at them, throwing things when he couldn't throw a fist or leg to connect properly. Yonji shouted back, struggling to reach him, Ichiji's yells going unheard as Vito tried his best to intervene.

The dogs, hearing the chaos, ran into the study, barking noisily, running amidst them with jumps and snaps of teeth towards anyone that looked as if they were trying to attack. When Duval finally managed to knock Sanji down, Tony retreating to hastily lick his face, Ichiji pushed Yonji towards Vito, all of them trying to catch their breath.

" _Stop it_! Stop it! All of you!" Ichiji howled, hands out. "This is doing nothing for us!"

Heaving for breath, Sanji pushed the dogs away from him, rising shakily to his feet. He looked at all of them with a murderous expression, stumbling for support against the desk. Seeing that look told Ichiji that this was him, this was his brother – Sanji had always looked at them this way, _hating_ them for every confrontation, blaming every argument, every fight on their actions. And in the back of his mind, Ichiji knew why – _this_ was their father's doing. This was the result of their father's actions. And because of their teasing and fighting, Sanji had felt alone – he _was_ alone.

He felt strong denial for following Smoker's advice. To turn over this emotionally, mentally damaged person to the police, to allow him to die because they'd stumbled into a situation that seemed beyond their control and power. Near similar to the resulting aftermath of their father's abuse. They were doing it, again, pushing him away because of someone else's actions.

It was extremely difficult for Ichiji to do that. After everything their brother endured because of their father, he took on the responsibility of providing a safe home for Sanji, in an attempt to make up for their childhood – but this was something out of his power to control or contain.

He struggled to say something, his throat tight as Yonji looked to him, but before Ichiji could say anything, Sanji strode out of the room, Duval following quickly while Tony continued staring at his master.

" _Ichiji_!" Yonji insisted, gesturing after him.

"I can't do it," Ichiji replied shakily, before he brushed off his clothes, straightening them with shaking hands. "I can't do it, Yonji."

" _Why_ _not_?"

But Ichiji couldn't get himself together to answer that. He sat down on one of the chairs, stubbornly folding his arms over his chest while Tony sat at his feet, resting his chin over Ichiji's knee. Frustrated, Yonji hit the wall on the way out, marching outside.

Visibly flustered, Vito asked tentatively, "Would you like a drink, Master?"

"Something strong," Ichiji mumbled.

: :

In his room, Sanji stared sightlessly at the floor from the edge of his bed. Whomever had caused the chaos downstairs did something to rile his brothers into attacking him, and with Niji's death so fresh, it wasn't that hard to understand why. He did not expect their understanding in that this entire incident wasn't by his hands. He wondered if Law were taunting them, somehow. It truly was as his friend had said, long ago; he had not been able to tell when the others took over, and he had no control of them if they did. He was only a host for their presence. Therefore, it was pointless trying to insist his own innocence in whatever it was those four did. Sanji couldn't help but think this was why his friend had felt so helpless that long ago, turning to a God that stopped listening to him; God had no power over this act.

It was inconceivable to even fathom that such a thing was possible in the first place. He had accepted that this strange turn of events was something he had feared, and it wasn't something he could do anything about. Without regard to his brothers, his family, he just did not care to protect himself. It was pointless when he was already in the position that he was in, the black sheep of the family.

Hearing the dead man's low chuckle at the back of his thoughts made him twitch. He could hear their responses to his casual thoughts, but Law had expressed how frustrating it was to 'hear' Sanji because Sanji was so consumed with his own disorder. As much as Law had tried to get to him, he couldn't get that far into Sanji because Sanji had learned of his own defenses. But he couldn't think this way _all the time_ , which was how Law managed to gleam what he could based on Sanji's own actions. He could only help it consciously, brought attention to their words.

So Sanji thought hard about what he'd have for lunch – an omelet, perhaps, with vegetables, lukewarm water, and maybe three rounds of the property, where he would lift his knees high – maybe jog a lap, no matter the cost, because what he'd eaten last night was still in his system, he was sure of it!

He quickly left his bed and headed outside to start his routine. The morning air had shifted into something cooler, clouds gathering in the horizon, and those that had reported to work around the grounds looked at him with suspicion, keeping their distance. He ignored them, taking the path he was clearing with his feet alone along the perimeter of the property, keeping a hard stride. After several hard laps of that, he returned to his room. Already slightly winded, he began jogging in place. He could feel last night's dinner still sitting in his stomach, and he needed it _out_. He pumped his arms, hearing a jumble of sound at the back of his concentration – garbled words that couldn't get through because he was too busy berating himself for not throwing up dinner before taking the pills, and he _should_ have, because he couldn't do much activity today –

He saw the shadows moving, building in smoke-like wisps from the floor. Apprehension gripped him, hearing the faint churns of machinery in the distance, and he stopped jogging in place – instead laid down and began doing situps. The darkness began to rise higher, as if someone had started a fire on the floor beneath him, but he continued the action, thinking about how many he'd need to do to feel the concave feeling again in his mid section. Exhaling with each completed action, he folded his arms behind his head and thought about lunch, again. Maybe not an omelet – maybe just a mixture of steamed vegetables. But that took time – he'd just eat them raw. But didn't Vito use them for last night's dinner? He exhaled sharply, still rising and falling as the darkness lifted to form over the windows, curling like spidery hands over the light that fell through.

He switched from situps to twists, moving rapidly, consumed with his indecision regarding lunch. He couldn't have yesterday's because it was too much of a monotony, and he needed to continue challenging his metabolism –

The smoke disappeared suddenly, evaporating without warning. Sweat dripped over his floor, collected at points on his body. He switched to leg lifts, touching his thighs, looking for excess weight. It seemed since he'd arrived here, his mass was building, again. He felt so angry with Luffy for eating so much of last night's dinner that frustration started to push his sick thoughts into thinking he was gaining weight, accumulating unwanted mass. Then he examined his arms, his feet, feeling the burn begin with added movement. Any amount of it made him think he wasn't trying hard enough, that his rigid sense of control was slipping. He was getting comfortable here, he presumed, to gain so much.

 _KNOCK IT OFF_! Someone bellowed, but Sanji gave that voice no attention, because it wasn't Ichiji or Yonji; from the heavy sound of it, it was Shilliew. He switched sides, checking the width of his wrists, looking for any indication that Luffy's dinner had absorbed within him. He panicked about what had been left on his plate when he'd blacked out, remembering that he had given Duval his turkey, but there were some shreds left over. Persistent thought told him that there had been too much on his plate left over. Luffy ate it all, and considering the boy's appetite, he probably helped himself to another serving before anyone could stop him.

Rising to his feet, he jogged in place again, breathing hard, feeling his heart pound hard. Sweat made his clothes uncomfortable, but he thought about lunch again, switching his intended vegetables to soup. There was broth in the icebox, he could use that, dump some –

STOP! _YOU FOOL_! Law's voice snarled at him.

Sanji ran faster. His feet pounded on the floor as he felt himself slow, arms in measured pumps at his side. When his legs grew tired, he started jumping jacks, breathing heavily, sweat dripping into his eyes, stinging him. He then dropped to the ground, doing push-ups. His arms struggled to support him, but he resolved to stick with his routine, trying to negotiate the ingredients needed to fix lunch. Instead of broth, he could just eat a diced tomato. _Just_ a tomato, with a cucumber on the side, and instead of lukewarm water, cold water, water left over in the icebox; when his arms gave out, he twisted back first on the floor and started situps again.

Stop it! _STOP IT_! - a child's voice, Shachi, followed by a pained wail.

That dark color started to collect again, but instead of the wisps, he saw shapes of hands, fingers curling to the sky. Attached to arms of various shapes, pushing against the ceiling, as if trying to stop from rising. Sanji thought about the taste of the tomato, how acidic it was, how it would burn his stomach – but that meant he could expel easier, an upset stomach meant less calories –

 _Please! No more_! Robin cried, one of those hands reaching out to grab another, hands shifting from the ceiling to reach down towards him. All of their voices were screaming at them, but after he couldn't draw himself up anymore, Sanji pushed back up to his feet and jogged again, straining to keep moving. He felt hot air, but it had to be because of his sweat, causing his clothes to cling uncomfortably onto him, and he had the thought that if he added another layer, he could lose more that way, coax the extra fluids from his body through the use of heat.

From the corner of his eye, he saw his closet door opening, exposing his collection of clothes. Hand Me Downs from his brothers, when they were teens. All in good condition. He did not think of how unusual the gesture was – how it happened. He did not care. He immediately locked onto the sight of his heavy winter jacket, and stopped jogging, moving swiftly to it. Shakily, he put it on, zipping it up, still hearing his blood rush, those voices shouting at him – mindless dribble from their evil mouths. He couldn't hear what they were saying when he was so consumed with his lunch menu, with the thought of burning more through more activity. Once the jacket was on, he started moving again. He started jumping jacks, and his temperature began to rise with the addition of the heavy jacket. But it was good, because his body was shedding more water, and that should be sufficient, it should be fine, because when it came to dinner, he was already settled on chicken, vegetables – no, fruit on the side, grapes and an apple. Half an apple. Half a grape. Maybe not the chicken. Just the apple and grape.

White stars started to flit over his vision, but that happened, sometimes. He just had to push through it. It'd be fine if he kept moving. Those shadowy arms continued to push away from the ceiling, and they were growing into larger forms, still making noise. Too much noise. They were interrupting his thinking, and he grimaced, envisioning the tomato he'd planned on atop of one of Ichiji's fancy plates, with silverware in his hands – _no_ , he'd decided on an apple – wait, a grape –

"Keep going," he heard behind him, light pressure on his back. Not an invasive one, but as if someone were encouraging him. "Faster."

Sanji wasn't sure if he could go any faster, but his breathing was labored, and his heart was racing, slamming up against his ribcage. The white spots eventually faded away, and his skin felt hot, felt as if it were steaming. Sweat dribbled down his collar, drenched his shirt, and the more he focused on his choice for lunch, the less he heard of those shouting voices. He suddenly stumbled, catching himself hastily, and resumed running.

"You're almost done, Sanji."

 _Yes_ , _yes_ , Sanji thought with irritation. Just a few more minutes, he didn't need some jackass telling him how to finish his own routine. Feeling weak, he cursed himself for giving out sooner than he wanted, looking at the bed. He'd take a nap afterward, he'd be fine. He'd only allow himself a cup of water later. Maybe half of a cup. He stumbled again, breathing heavily, hearing the smatter of voices at the back of his mind continue to shout at him.

Vito walked in at that moment, nearly dropping the tray he held. " _Master Sanji_!"

"Go away! I'm busy!" Sanji snapped at him, a harsh exhalation of air as he re-focused on his task, not allowing the butler to interrupt him.

"M-Master, please, here!" Vito sputtered, hurrying in with the tray, thrusting it at him. Sanji dismissed the appearance of water and fruit, stubbornly shaking his head. Vito set the tray aside, wringing his hands anxiously, face full of panic. " _Please_ , take a break!"

"Fuck out of here!"

Wordless, Vito left the tray and hurried off. Sanji stopped counting, and shakily made his way to the door, slamming it shut. His legs were burning, but he wasn't done, yet. He was certain he could still feel dinner in his stomach, and his feet were so heavy, now, and he was struggling to keep going, hearing those voices scream at him.

The door opened, and Ichiji marched in, striding towards him as Vito stood outside anxiously. Ichiji grabbed Sanji, Sanji stopping in mid-motion to shove him, growing enraged at the interruption to his routine when he was so close to finishing.

"Stop this!" Ichiji demanded, forcing Sanji towards the floor, the blond struggling to keep his footing, pushing back.

"Get off! Get off, leave me alone! Leave me alone, I've got a few more minutes - !" Sanji snarled at him, throwing a fist, but his arm didn't have the strength he needed to do so. He ended up uselessly slapping his older brother, Ichiji overpowering him to force him to the floor. Panic arose in him, and Sanji struggled to escape, Ichiji holding onto his jacket, easily handling his efforts. "Get off! _Get off_ , jack ass!"

Ichiji propped a knee over his hip, shifted hold to find the zipper of the jacket, fighting to push Sanji's hands away from him. "Stop this, immediately! Stop this, you look dreadful! _Stop_!"

"Fuck out of here – _let go_! Let go, you're ruining it, you're ruining everything!" Sanji cried, pushing at his face, lifting his legs to kick him when he realized something felt wrong. His head started to pound, and he couldn't seem to catch his breath as easily as he used to – his coordination felt as if it stopped working, because his movement wasn't steady with his intention. Blood rushed to his head and left it nearly at the same time. All he could hear at that moment was his heart beating hard, nearly taking his breath away. Sound seemed as if it were leaving him in a long tunnel, and all he could feel was a massive wave of heat sweeping through him, caught within the jacket.

 _Shit, I think I'm going to faint_ , he thought, but he felt his mouth forming the words, so he wasn't sure if he'd spoken them out loud. He focused on a narrowing point of light, hearing blood pound through his body. He felt too hot, heart bumping erratically, catching his attention. It wasn't settling into the familiar rhythm he was used to – it seemed to jump then tighten, holding firm before jumping again. Once aware of this, he realized why Vito and Ichiji were behaving the way they were. He wasn't conscious of them, of their efforts to remove the layers of clothing he wore, shouting at him to respond. All he heard was the irregular beating of his heart.

He registered his vision narrowing, seeing nothing but a fading pinpoint of light ahead of him. Just beyond the stumbling sound of his heart, he could hear other voices – familiar ones, but he couldn't make out their purpose to figure out what they were saying. The sound was much too faint, like listening to something in the far-off distance. It felt so difficult to focus, to concentrate on moving – all his limbs had gone deadweight. It felt as if his heart was beating right up against his ears – pulsing with such vague weight that he wondered if it were finally giving out after all the stress he put on it.

He was so tired – maybe he just needed to take a nap. He thought about what he'd have for dinner, settling for chicken, a tomato on the side. He envisioned it clearly, picturing the setting on the table clearly. He'd be very angry if Vito gave him cold water, rather than the lukewarm he preferred. He envisioned himself eating exactly two bites of chicken, finding an excuse to reject the rest. So clear was the picture that he could see others seated at the table with him. His side vision allowed him to identify at least four other bodies, but the one closest to him was more familiar than the rest. He looked over and saw his friend sitting next to him, watching him.

"Maybe next time," Law said, not resembling the one Sanji knew, but his friend from the church.

"The fuck does that mean?" Sanji asked aloud, but it was a jumble of wordless noises as he registered a sharp pain in his chest, causing him to gasp in suddenly, and air rushed through him with such hot feeling that he choked on it, sputtering noisily. The dinner table disappeared, and the tunnel came back, his room coming back to him in a rush of shouts, activity and a weight removed from his chest.

Coughing, feeling blood flash back through him in a surge of renewed heat, his vision came back from that darkened tunnel, and he was looking up at the frightened faces of his brothers, the cop that had spoken to him earlier. Enraged at their nearness, their interruption to his routine, he lashed out with his arms to drive them back, but his body felt so weak that it was only a twitch of his arms that caused them no harm.

"Cold cloth!" Vito said, passing dripping towels to Ichiji, who quickly folded one over Sanji's head, Yonji taking one to place over Sanji's exposed chest. Feeling the sharp cold caused his entire body to jerk in reaction, gritting a wordless noise from his clenched teeth.

"Bring me the IV stand from the closet," Ichiji directed Vito, who hastened to do so. Sanji had stuffed it in there, pissed at the sight of it. He was still pissed, now, unable to move the way he wanted as the cold relieved the heat of his skin.

"How'd you do that?" Yonji asked Lucci with an amazed expression.

"Compression over the heart restarts the organ," Lucci replied, rising away to give Ichiji and Vito room to work. He didn't understand how this man continued to push himself to this state; how his brothers struggled to keep him going. By all logic, Sanji should've been dead - how the sanatorium staff had kept their diligent work to keep him from dying made Lucci think they were crazy themselves.

Having been called back to the house at Yonji's prompting, Lucci had expected to waltz right into a family row, not this shit scene. It didn't make sense for Ichiji to fight a man that so obviously wanted to die by his own hands. Lucci watched the brothers and the butler work together to settle Sanji into his own bed, establishing the IV line with amateur action, fighting the walking skeleton into doing so.

He glanced around the room in the meantime – it held nothing of interest for Lucci, seeing it impeccable and neat, impersonal. He couldn't see anything that stood out that would give him that same warning feeling he'd had earlier in the day. He watched as Ichiji stood back, as Vito fretted over Sanji's condition, Yonji looking over them with frustration. But seeing as he'd worn himself out, Sanji didn't fight anymore.

"Fucking _asshole_ ," Lucci heard muttered close by, and he turned his head in the direction of the sound. A door slammed noisily at the end of the hall, rattling the knob. The sound sent the Great Danes barking from the floor below, short, angry barks that made it near impossible to hear anything else.

He looked back at the cackle of sound that rang out, and recognized a strange new tension in the room. Looking over to the others, he watched as Sanji covered his mouth, strangely different from the dying man Lucci had just seen seconds earlier.

The three pushed away from the bed with flustered action, as if escaping something dangerous, all wearing troubled expressions as Sanji snickered. Then, all at once, his expression shifted into a wide grin, as if seeing them all for the first time. Lucci stepped forward, tucking his hands into his pockets as he observed.

"Vinsmokes!" he cried joyously, hands up in the air. Sanji's voice took on a quality Lucci hadn't heard before, as if forcefully made higher, scratchier. "I have made it! I have rejoined the living, as it may seem! Somehow, once again, I am in the presence of you - ! Hah, hah, hah! Tell me, oldest boy, where is your daddy?"

Visibly flustered, Ichiji's mouth worked a few times, but nothing emerged as the man continued grinning from his bed. It was a wicked sort of smile, wide and vengeful, eyes held abnormally wide. Then, moments, later, shaking hands dropped to his forehead, before rapping on it soundly.

"My memory isn't as it used to be," he continued, in that eerily scratchy tone, forced from a smile that slowly died away. He looked at the IV stand, jiggling the line inserted into his arm with a confused expression. "What's all this?"

Before he could take an answer, he ripped the needle from his arm, much to Vito's distress. The butler didn't say anything – he turned and hurried out of the room, Lucci lunging to the side to avoid collusion. All at once, Sanji's mood changed fiercely.

"Doctors!" he shouted furiously, kicking at the blankets, fighting to sit up. He did so with tremendously flexible energy, Yonji hurrying away from bedside while Ichiji stood stock still, mouth still moving soundlessly. "Doctors, _are you all doctors_? Have I been returned? AKAINU WILL HAVE NO PART OF ME, ANYMORE! He's already taken enough of me!"

"Akainu is dead," Lucci stated, as calmly as he could to the man now standing atop of the bed, breathing heavily. "He met an untimely end some months ago."

The man that looked at him suddenly grinned wide at this. "Is that so? Some luckier fellow than I was got ahold of him? Bah ha ha ha ha! If only I could have been witness to this! How I would have loved to see this in action! He took away a part of me I'd never get back, and - ! who wants to see a magic trick?"

He looked down at himself, patting at his clothing, then growing confused at what he was wearing. He fiddled with his opened shirt, touched his naked chest and stomach with hands that trembled noticeably. Then looked at the three men with bewilderment, shoving his shirt closed.

Lucci looked at the brothers again. Both were speechless.

"What is this?" the man asked warily, holding his shirt closed. "What are you doing to me?"

"You were tired," Lucci said slowly. "You were readying yourself for bed."

"Huh? _Why_? There is still the sun crossing the sky – " trailing off, the man looked to the windows, eyes widening just a fraction more. Then he resumed his furious expression, snarling. "Where am I? What hospital is this one?"

"You are home, Sanji – "

" _Who_? Who is that? Obviously, my name is _Buggy_ , fool! Buggy the Clown! Ah, I see what this is! I was brought in to entertain those confined to their beds," Buggy exclaimed, walking off the bed.

"Bu – Bu – _Bug_ \- !" Yonji sputtered noisily, looking ever so confused, red in the face.

Ichiji finally looked to Lucci, the eldest Vinsmoke brother at an obvious loss for direction. Because Lucci had no idea what he had walked into, he sought to control the situation, reaching out to stop Sanji from leaving by grasping one thin arm and pulling him back from the doorway to look at him.

"You're not Sanji Vinsmoke?" Lucci asked, face wearing his own puzzlement.

"Of course not!" Buggy exclaimed, hitting his hand from his arm. "I told you who I am?"

"Please contact his doctor," Lucci told Ichiji, Buggy looking at the redhaired man with consternation. He grabbed Lucci's lapels, shaking him slightly.

"I don't need a doctor! I don't need to see anybody! I'm fine! _I'm fine_ , Akainu said I was right as rain after my treatment!" he protested. "I've done nothing wrong! I'm a changed man! He said I could go free to do as I pleased after sitting for him!"

"My records indicate Buggy was not a changed man," Lucci said, snatching his hands off of his clothing. "Buggy the Clown slaughtered an innocent child after denouncing Judge Vinsmoke's request to leave his property."

Sputtering with incredulous action, Buggy backed away from him. He wrung his hands a few times, then straightened up with another loud laugh.

"I remember that!" he cried jovially. "I remember that! That little shit had a mouth on him, mocking me, all of them laughing at me like…I wasn't a human being! He had what was coming to him, and - !"

He added, before anyone could say anything, "It should've been Judge himself on my operating table! For refusing my pay! I entertained greatly that day, and I was not given compensation for my pain and suffering, enduring what I had at his hands! Did you know, I caught the man in the middle of assaulting one of his prized children? Did he? _Hmm_? He _didn't_? How convenient! Blame it on an easy target, that Judge Vinsmoke! Blame him for my actions – where is Akainu? I demand to speak with him!"

"I'm outta here," Yonji decided uncomfortably, stalking out of the room.

Lucci looked to Ichiji for anything useful to say, but he was having a hard time accepting what was happening in front of him. Ichiji looked horrified, but he looked to Lucci, struggling to blurt out whatever it was that couldn't escape.

Buggy turned away from Lucci, scanning the room before he twitched violently, head jerking to the side, shoulders convulsing. He was then still and silent, unmoving, and the air suddenly filled with heat. Aware of a vague sound in the distance, Lucci made to touch his ear, finding the building vibrations discomforting so close to him. Ichiji made the movement, stepping back, bumping against the nightstand, things rattling to the floor with a vibration that caused Sanji to turn his way.

Ichiji froze, watching the man whose attention was caught by the bright sunlight filtering through the curtains, dust motes fluttering about. Then he looked up at the ceiling, standing silently, Lucci utterly bewildered by this sudden change of personality. Quickly, Ichiji left the bed, gesturing at the police officer to leave the room. Reluctantly, Lucci did so, Ichiji pulling the door close and locking it with a heavily trembling hand.

In the silence that followed, catching sight of Yonji and Vito standing anxiously near the stairway, Lucci asked, " _What the fuck is going on_?"


	7. Chapter 7

**: 7 :**

Ichiji's cup rattled atop of the saucer as he set it down. After locking his brother's door, all of them had taken refuge in the living room.

"Buggy," he murmured. "It was years ago when that…we were nine. That…whatever happened, after, it…only father would know that. That…which…transpired between – what Buggy mentioned. Only he…I'm sure it's in the police – records, where, whatever happened, that – would explain things."

"Look, just take him away!" Yonji ordered of Lucci, his hair a mess as he swept his hands through it. "He's – unbalanced!"

"NO!" Ichiji interrupted him, looking to Lucci as well. "He's unwell, but -! Surely, this will only pass, as result of his trauma endured – "

"That's not 'trauma'! That is _insanity_! And it's happening right now, and it's not something we're equipped to deal with! You heard what that guy said, earlier! Nothing's going to stop him! Nothing's going to – look, he wants to see dad, let him see dad!" Yonji shouted over him.

" _Sanji_ does not want to see dad, and that…that explains why," Ichiji said firmly. "All of that…"

"There are _seven_ different people!" Yonji shouted at Lucci. "That spoke to us like that!"

"Is this normal of - ?" Lucci tried to ask when Ichiji interrupted with, "It's not part of his file, no, it's…it's…something new, and…."

"Well – "

"This disorder was explained as personalities developed because the main host cannot take the psychological trauma of past events, and it would make sense that Sanji might have developed this disorder as the result of whatever it was he witnessed at Wickem," Ichiji said quickly. "He alone survived Trafalgar's rampage, and knew of these…personalities, and it would make sense that he'd…develop…similar things, being that he was weak of mind already. I'm not entirely sure on the details, or how this would start, it's new to me, I would have to research it - "

"That does not explain anything - !"

" _Quiet_ ," Lucci ordered both of them as Ichiji made to shout over Yonji, both of them unhinged as the result of what had happened before their eyes. Vito stood with a hunch at Ichiji's side, looking just as rattled. Lucci didn't know what happened to the dogs that had made such a racket earlier, but their absence was noted.

"Look…this is a very troubling time for everyone involved. But it appears that it's more than what you can handle, logically," he told Ichiji, who looked very upset, but didn't deny it. "Dr Hina is better equipped to take him on at the facility she was transferred to, on the other island – "

"This is something I chose to do because he's our family – "

"Niji _died_ because of it!" Yonji shouted at Ichiji. "Did you forget that?"

"How could I? We were the ones to find him!"

"All I'm saying is that your intentions were good, and it was working out for this short amount of time, considering the estrangement between you all," Lucci interrupted once again, "but it appears that there's more to his mental issues that any of you can rightly handle. Whether this was an undetected issue, or a new one, the fact that none of you can properly explain what just occurred is paramount; if it were the cause of your brother's death, it's something that only the judge can decide. If he were to be questioned in this state before the judge, he will be punished for the murder of his own brother, and treated accordingly."

 _But it wasn't him_!

"Who said that it was?" Lucci demanded, the trio giving him clueless expressions. "Do any of you have any evidence?"

"We…we didn't say anything," Yonji said slowly.

"I'm not playing into this game with any of you. Whoever said that should well explain himself – "

 _It wasn't Sanji_!

"Then who was it?" he demanded, Ichiji and Yonji looking at each other uncomfortably, Vito looking at Lucci with bewilderment. Growing frustrated with their expressions, Lucci snapped, "If you don't have the evidence to back it up, then why bother saying anything - ?"

Running movement from the stairway caught their attention, a door slamming moments later. All of them looked up, expecting to see something to detail what they'd just heard, hearing only a rigid silence left behind. A male's loud laughter rang out, and Yonji threw up his hands, striding out from the living room, heading towards the front doors. Lucci turned to look up at the stairway, hearing a woman's murmur float through the open space of the second floor hallway, saying something too low to separate individually, but too loud to ignore.

Moments later, running footsteps emerged from the third floor, just over their heads. A loud thump and rattle caused Ichiji to straighten up from the chair, jerking at the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. Before any of them could say anything, pots and pans rattled in the kitchen, then crashed down with a loud, unsettling ruckus that had all three of them moving with involuntary action away from the sound. From the corner of his eye, Lucci saw that Yonji was at the front door, but he was looking towards the kitchen with such a frightened expression that he'd either frozen stiff from the unexpected rattle, or was seeing something that Lucci had yet to identify.

He made to step in that direction when he saw movement from the stairway, and saw Sanji at the top of the stairs, looking down at them with a smug expression. His hands were clasped behind him, still wearing his disheveled clothing as it had been left on him, but his body language presented to Lucci another person. Someone who slouched slightly, his face vaguely shadowed with a familiar expression. He'd seen it this morning, and he'd seen it back at the police station, after he'd re-opened the file kept on Wickem Sanatorium.

Furiously, Ichiji shouted, "Leave us alone!"

The man snickered, looking highly amused at their present state. He looked to Lucci, shifting weight from foot to foot. "What about it, officer?" he asked in a lazy drawl. "Are we all upset, yet?"

"What is your purpose here?" Lucci demanded, stepping forward, nearing the bottom of the stairs.

"I believe all of us have been…pretty clear about what we want. I had pegged you as a smarter man, considering how deeply you were prying into my business. All we've ever wanted was a chance to make amends with daddy Vinsmoke."

"That'll never happen!" Ichiji hissed at him.

A lethargic shrug happened, before the kitchen shifted again with movement, utensils rattling noisily onto the floor. A look over his shoulder told Lucci that Yonji was once again looking in that direction, pale-faced.

"Then we continue begging," Law said, taking a couple of steps down. Lucci wasn't sure if it were clouds outside that caused shadows to shift behind him, giving the illusion that there were others on the second floor behind him, but his eyes were pinned just over Sanji's very different appearance. "And begging, and coercing, and convincing…it's no problem to me. I happen to enjoy myself, _immensely_ , doing what it takes to get the attention I need. Listen, just make it easier for yourself, Red-ya – call your dad home. Let us get our reunion on…"

"Fuck you!"

Law laughed at Ichiji's enraged shout.

"Stop this immediately!" Lucci commanded, taking a couple of steps up, Law looking at him with amusement. "Cease this behavior! This is revenge, isn't it? All that built up trauma you carry, you're taking it out on the wrong people! If you are angry at your father, then perhaps you should take up a conversation with him!"

"Oh, this conversation won't take any part of me," Law assured him, touching his sickly chest with one overly veiny hand. "It's actually none of my business. I, frankly, don't care about Vinsmoke-ya's trauma, unless it's to send him into a tailspin. It's funny to see him lose that hard won control over himself."

"Were you the one to have done that to Niji?" Ichiji demanded, striding past Lucci. Law took a couple of steps back, Lucci reaching out to grasp the man's shirt as he realized Law still hadn't taken his arms out from behind him. "Were you the one to kill him?"

Law gave him an innocent look. After a few moments, he held his hands up, wiggling his fingers. "My hands are clean, Red-ya. But I'll say this – even when detached, Niji's tongue just wouldn't stop moving - !"

Lucci jerked back on Ichiji as he made to charge, Law giggling, then turning and hurrying out of sight. As he did so, running footsteps over their head sounded out, leading in the opposite direction that he'd taken. Before Lucci could reprimand Ichiji for falling for the man's goading, all of them heard Sanji shouting out with horror from the third floor. At first, it was just a wordless shout, then it turned into a mixture of terrified noises that bordered on hysterics. Hearing his screams caused Yonji to leave the house, Lucci and Ichiji trying to understand what was happening in that split second Law left their view.

Vito stood on visibly shaking legs. Mouth opening and closing, he uttered noises that struggled to form into words, but those horrendous screams built with strength. Ichiji shoved Lucci away from him, and Lucci reached out to grab him in vain, finding it hard to take the steps necessary to give chase. The sound of Sanji's shrieks suddenly started moving – from one end of the floor to the other. He screamed wordlessly, the sounds of a struggle erupting, something slamming fiercely to shake the floor. Struck as he was by the sounds, by what he knew was only a trick, Lucci just stood there, Ichiji leaving his sight as he made it onto the third floor.

The stillness that erupted soon after felt as immense as a heavy weight suddenly fell over his chest. Heart pounding, Lucci listened to the sound of Ichiji walking the hallway to the last room on the third floor, where the noises had come from. It was the only sound in the house. The creak of hinges screeched out over the intense silence, and Lucci held his breath, waiting to hear something from the eldest Vinsmoke brother as his footsteps took him into the room where the noises had come from.

The resulting stillness was maddening. Lucci looked to Vito, but the butler was as rigid as a statute, staring up at the ceiling with such shock and dismay that Lucci knew he'd be useless to rely on for any sort of assistance. Not hearing anything more from Ichiji, Lucci took the stairs, one heavy step at a time. He reached for his baton, acknowledging the shake of his hands, the unsteadiness of his breath.

Once on the third floor, Lucci saw that Ichiji was staring sightlessly into the last room at the end of the hall. With some trouble, Lucci saw that more drawings, writing had been added to those already documented with the reports taken from this morning. Glancing around, Lucci was treated to the sight of opened bodies, prostitutes that had been identified long after death occurred. They were labeled with their full names, and numbered in the order they'd been murdered. The ceiling had more footprints added to it – men's sizes, different imprints that suggested more than one person. The feeling of heat and utter wrongness in the air made it difficult to breathe. It was almost as if he were walking freely into a predator's cage, knowing he was being watched, knowing he'd be cut down at any moment, but also knowing that he was being allowed to venture through here.

Once he reached the man's side, Ichiji noticed his presence with a jerk of his shoulders, and he was suddenly leaning over, vomiting the contents of his drink onto the floor. Looking into the room, Lucci acknowledged the smells that hit him first. Ichiji then stumbled away, headed for the stairway.

Looking over the garish display before him, Lucci didn't understand why they had to kill the dogs.

: :

Ichiji watched as Vito threw the last of his luggage into the wagon Lucci had used to come up to the property. The butler couldn't speak, visibly traumatized as he climbed in, Lucci scanning the area for any sign of Yonji. Ichiji patted Vito's back – a sign of forgiveness, the man holding himself with visible effort. Just beyond them, the workers that had reported to the house earlier were headed home, sure to share their experience with those they happened upon. Ichiji was sure that the whole island would renew their suspicion in Sanji by tonight. After what they'd experienced, there was just no hiding it, now.

"I'm going to get a few men, and return before evening," Lucci told Ichiji, boarding as the horses shifted restlessly in place. "I suggest avoiding entering the house at any cost. Clearly…that is not your brother."

"I'm well aware that attempting any sort of reasoning with him is impossible," Ichiji said vaguely. "I just….think that you're right. This is beyond our…our hands."

"You gave it a try, you can't think too badly of yourself. Obviously, this is more than what man can handle with his own hands, and must look to God for assistance – "

"But if He hasn't helped in the last few instances with those more faithful to Him than I, then how is He expected to help me?" Ichiji retorted. "If there was a hand He could give, He should have done it, by now."

Lucci nodded because it made sense, and flicked the reins. Ichiji watched as the wagon took them away, Vito facing stiffly forward. Once they were far enough down the road to be only smudges in the distance, Ichiji turned and looked for any sign of his younger brother. Yonji might have made it to town on foot, already, propelled by fear. He hoped that Yonji had left, unable to think about finding him later, as he had with Niji. Ichiji then turned and looked at the house, feeling that he was being watched. None of the windows reflected the presence of anyone standing there, and he looked out over the building storm that was drawing near. With it came the presence of thunder, of lightening that zigzagged through the skies to hit the ocean water. Shaking his head, he headed back towards the porch.

Sitting in the chair facing the road, Ichiji prepared himself for the things he would have to say to their father – it was inevitable for Judge to appear, due to the death of Niji. Judge would want answers, he would want justice – Law – or was it Buggy? – would get his wish. What would happen if Ichiji just allowed the visit to happen? Sanji would understand, wouldn't he?

At the sound of footfalls approaching the door, Ichiji stiffened up. The shift of the floorboards at the door indicated a pause at the handle, and he couldn't help himself as he startled at the sound of knocks given in short order. The door opened slowly until Sanji peered out, scanning the driveway with a tentative expression before he caught sight of Ichiji, and jumped noticeably.

"You scared me!" Sanji wheezed, holding a hand over his heart as he stepped out. But as he did so, he knocked on the doorframe before pulling the door closed behind him. "Sorry! It's a habit! I know, I know, it's really annoying, but it needs to be done!"

Ichiji wasn't sure what he was referring to, but this person wearing Sanji's skin walked with a sure gait, but held himself tentatively, as if he were ready to run at the snap of a hat. He'd pulled on a different shirt, threw on a dinner jacket – on his feet, loafers. Leaning against the banister after checking its sturdiness, Sanji whirled around to face Ichiji – still poised to run if he had to.

"So…are you a worker, here?" Sanji asked Ichiji tentatively.

Ichiji swallowed tightly. But if this man was showing signs of fear, then he felt he wans't a threat. "No. I'm Sanji's older brother."

"He said you guys were quadruplets. I don't see it."

"We have some similarities. Who are you?"

"Ah! I'm Ussop, nicknamed The Great! Unfortunately, not as great as the stories you must've heard of me, considering that I was in Wickem, for awhile," he said sheepishly. "I, uh…had some trouble…see, I like to make things, and a little habit here and there got out of control, and I can't do a thing without…counting – anyway, enough of me! What about you?"

Ichiji stared at him for several long seconds before Ussop started to squirm uncomfortably under the weight of that gaze. His fingers started a rapid tap atop of the railing he leaned against.

"Look, I know what this is about," Ussop said, and Ichiji was aware that his tapping was grouped in specific sets. After a certain number, they began again. "It's that guy, right? Causing problems. This atmosphere is totally…tense!"

"He's been around, yes."

"I'm so sorry," Ussop whispered, finishing a set before cringing, wringing his hands. "No one was able to control him in Wickem. They kept sending him to solitary, but it didn't work much, not with Penguin around. Listen, if it's true what they said, the only thing you can truly do now is just…lock us up. Somewhere where he can't get out. Then leave the place!"

"Leave my brother to die?"

"If people have already, then what does it matter?"

Ichiji set his jaw, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ussop licked his lips nervously. "Look, this guy is dangerous – what's to stop him until he gets what he wants? Considering the circumstances, think of it as - !"

"Your suggestion has been noted, sir."

"Don't be offended! All of us in one place, none of us can hear what they're planning, but over _there_ – they were so set on getting their way, they didn't care who was in their path! The best thing to do is lock him up, throw away the key!"

"Are you aware of what's happening, now?" Ichiji asked curiously.

Ussop gave a nervous look around, reaching up to fiddle with his hair. "It's the atmosphere that gave me a clue. It's very…strange. And the house is…nice house, by the way, but it's…things have been done in there, right? And you're out here, and…"

He suddenly straightened up, looking around with alarm. Without saying anything else, he pushed away from the railing, rapped at the doorframe a few times, and entered hastily. Ichiji wasn't sure what to think, but once he heard the raps right after, he heard the sound of Ussop running from the living room, hitting the stairs. Not even a second after that, a roar of voices exploded from the doorway, booming out into the heavy silence of his property. The doors slammed shut with a hard crack, wood popping noisily.

Ichiji listened as several men screamed at each other, but he couldn't pick out the individual words needed to know what was being said. It sounded like a growing wave of noise, as if the house was full of bodies. He resettled in his chair, clutching the armrests with white knuckled hands. He focused on his breathing, considering Ussop's suggestion.

Abruptly, the noises ceased.

: :

Near evening, the storm edged onto the island, hitting with full rain torrents, thunder booming with such force that his windows rattled. Lightening flashed over the clouded sky, lighting the area up so brilliantly that he was able to see the town's individual buildings for a moment. He caught sight of the wagon coming up the road, horses moving at a brisk pace. When it came closer, he picked out the heads of his brother, Lucci, and a couple of others, dressed in rain gear. For some time, now, Ichiji had heard movement coming from the house, the solitary steps of a lonely individual, and he'd entertained himself with the thought that it was only Sanji, making preparations to dinner while ignoring the severely heavy 'atmosphere'. Ichiji had long accepted that, because of his circumstances, Sanji did not care for them. He did not seek them out for conversation, he barely gave thought to their presence. But because of this, knowing what was happening, Ichiji did not understand why Sanji didn't approach him, now; for help, for consideration, for anything.

"I went and used a phone in town to call dad," Yonji told Ichiji as Lucci and the others unloaded; carrying guns, he noted. "He's on his way."

Ichiji stared at him. He wanted to be angry, and he felt insulted that his little brother had gone on and made this decision on his own. But he couldn't do anything about it, now. Yonji waited for him to say something, to acknowledge this, but Ichiji didn't know what to say. He turned away as Lucci and the others made their way into the house.

"New plan of action," Lucci told Ichiji as they walked in, smelling a meal in the midst of preparation. The two others he'd brought with them looked around with wary expressions, but from the way they were clutching their weapons, they were informed of what had happened, prepared to face the unexpected. "We're going to remove your brother from the house. Dr Hina let me know that solitary confinement had helped with containing Trafalgar Law, and so we'd prepared a special cell for him downtown."

Hesitating, Ichiji crossed his arms over his chest. "With proper medical care available?"

Lucci regarded him with a frown. "No."

"You saw what happened, he'll work himself into another heart attack - !"

"There are seven other people in better condition than he is," Lucci assured him, heading towards the kitchen while Ichiji frowned after him. There, Sanji caught sight of them as they all piled in, watching him cautiously.

" _What_?" he asked crankily, stirring a pot of liquid that simmered noisily.

"You'll be coming with us, now. To the station, until we can safely assess your situation," Lucci told him, the other officers spreading out, as if to prevent his escape. Looking them over, Sanji scowled. He directed the expression to Ichiji before tossing the spoon aside, turning off the burner. He reached back to untie his apron.

"For the safety of the others in this household, you understand," Lucci then added.

"I'm not stupid," Sanji snapped at him. Used to the procedure, he folded his arms behind his back and glared at the stove.

Ichiji could count the number of times law enforcement had responded to their home to take his little brother to jail, for his outbursts and violence. But this time seemed so much different from those other times, and he felt uncomfortable watching as Sanji was handcuffed, Lucci directing them to attach shackles to his feet.

"This is for the best, they have it all arranged, then we can talk to father about this shit without any worry of him being here and fucking it up," Yonji told Ichiji.

Sanji looked at them over the sound of the officer's applying the cuffs to his wrists, the shackles on his feet. "He's coming here?" he asked dully.

"Niji _died_ because of you!" Yonji snapped at him.

Sanji looked at Lucci. "So you think it'll make things easier for him if I were removed?"

"Easier for you," Lucci corrected him.

"That's how it's always been," Sanji muttered wearily. "His consideration, first."

"Mind you, after seeing what occurred within a day's worth of observation, this is a consideration for _all_ involved," Lucci told him, the three of them assisting Sanji into turning and making their way through the kitchen. Ichiji and Yonji stood aside to give them room to pass. Sanji didn't look at them as they shuffled out into the living room, thunder rumbling noisily overhead.

"God, this house feels so weird, now," Yonji muttered as they made their way outside, rain pelting down onto the ground. "Maybe you should get rid of it."

Ichiji said nothing, watching as the trio pulled on their rain hoods, leaving his brother to be soaked as they settled him into the wagon. After a few moments, he headed to the hall closet, rummaging quickly for his jacket before hurrying outside to hand it to Lucci, who spread it over Sanji's shoulders, hood fitted over him, the horses shuffling nervously. Their hooves pawed at the ground as the two officers settled themselves onto the seat, drawing up a temporary cover over the wagon.

"I'll return tomorrow if anything changes," Lucci told Ichiji. "In the meantime, I was able to reach Dr Hina. She will take the next ferry available to come here to provide any assistance needed to deal with your brother."

"Sure," Ichiji said with discomfort, watching the horses nervously. The animals were tossing their heads, shaking the reins, but he figured it was the weather that made them so anxious. He stepped back as Lucci climbed in, and the wagon pulled away.

Silent, Ichiji returned to the house, Yonji watching the wagon moving further away from the driveway. Minutes later, looking over the meal that was nearly cooked, Ichiji took care of the bubbling pot on the stove, unsure of what it was. Soup, broth, something to flavor the meat Vito had taken out earlier. He heard Yonji shut the doors, lock them, thunder rattling the windows.

"Are you upset?" Yonji then asked Ichiji, after standing on the other side of the kitchen island.

"I don't know what to think, to be honest," Ichiji mumbled, draining the bubbling liquid down the sink.

"All I know is that this isn't something we can do on our own, Ichi," Yonji said. "And plus, dad would want to know what happened to Niji. He was horrified. He wants justice."

"As we all do."

"Like, I get that you're upset about how things turned out, that we couldn't help him, but…what can you do? What can you do about it when weird shit is happening all around him, because of him?"

Because Ichiji didn't have a proper answer, mixed with his thoughts and feelings, he didn't reply. Yonji sighed heavily, drawing a hand through his wet hair. Not saying anything, he left the kitchen, meandering into the living room, where Ichiji heard the couch give a squeaking protest to his weight as he sat. Ichiji busied himself finishing the rest of the meal, seeing that Sanji had intended on serving them mashed potatoes, leftover ham, a simple fruit dish. It was the gravy that Ichiji had tossed out, and he regretted it immensely.

Nearly an hour after they'd finished dinner, both of them climbed the stairs to the third floor. Yonji shivered, looking around himself anxiously. The smell of the dead animals made him sick, Ichiji pulling a sleeve to cover his nose and mouth.

"Those will have to be removed, soon," he muttered.

"Once again, you should demolish the whole house." Studying the pictures on the wall, Yonji then wondered aloud, "I wonder why he chose to terrorize the third floor…"

"We don't use it very often, I suppose. It does contain only the guest bedrooms."

"Ugh, you don't think they're inviting themselves in to these rooms as 'guests', right? Since they're all their own personalities?"

Ichiji wrinkled his nose. It made a little sense, and he chose to veer off to one of the rooms to begin an investigation. Yonji followed close behind him, unable to stop himself from glancing over his shoulder every so often to make sure no one else was standing there.

The room was plain, with only furniture basics available, but there was a heavy scent of women's perfume in the air. Both of them caught onto this smell, looking around themselves for any sign of disturbances. The windows were half closed, but the closet was open, revealing wide, empty space. In the bed was the imprint of a body, and Yonji eked a sound of distress upon catching it.

"He's gone, so it's not like he can do anything," Ichiji snapped at him, elbowing him away. "This must've been done while he was here!"

"Still! It's upsetting!"

Ichiji turned away, to open and shut the drawer doors, looking for anything unusual. In the top dresser drawer, he found the letter from his sister. The fact that it was the only item there made him uneasy. He took it out, examining it for any foul play, before refolding it and stuffing it back into the envelope it had come in. He shoved that into his trouser pockets, turning towards the open closet. From his position, he could see the edge of something on the top long shelf, and he walked over to reach up and retrieve it. Seeing an older photograph of him and his siblings as children clustered together made something inside of him freeze with heavy weight.

He remembered when it had been taken – they had to stand still for several minutes, Judge watching them from behind the camera, their mother next to him. Despite being reprimanded several times, Sanji had stared at the ground rather than join his siblings into looking at the camera. Reiju had such a blank expression to her face, but her hand clasped her brother's tightly, as if giving silent support; the others held stoic expressions Judge approved of. The space between Niji and Sanji and Reiju looked so grand, at that moment. The three boys had stood closely together, limbs jostling each other, while the other two held themselves tight within their own space.

He flipped the photo over, expecting to see a written date, but saw only a smiley face oddly positioned on the back. He flipped it over to see how this face fit with that of the other side, and saw that the photo had changed drastically – Niji's face was scraped off, with Sanji wearing devil's horns, Reiju with six, spidery limbs and a red hourglass in the center of her torso, and his and Yonij's faces circled intensely, with " _You're Next_!" written over their heads.

He dropped the photo with a start, jumping back as if it had scalded him.

The front doors downstairs slammed shut with such violence, something cracked. Yonji sputtered, nearly leaping feet in the air while Ichiji jerked around, facing the doorway. Feeling breathless, he strode towards the doorway, heading for the railing to look down the stairway. He saw that whomever had come in had left behind a wet trail, but not only that, something that left a darker trail alongside it.

Yonji grabbed him, Ichiji struggling to get out of his fear-induced grasp.

"Dear! I'm home!" a woman called out cheerily from the kitchen, a heavy thump resounding within the sink. "Oh my, what weather we're experiencing outside! It's enough to chill one to the bone!"

" _It's her_!" Yonji squealed against Ichiji's head, Ichiji slapping at him for some space before he took the stairs, heart thumping noisily. Yonji followed close behind, both of them listening to a woman hum and amuse herself with what was leftover on the kitchen counters.

Once setting down on the first floor, both of them cautiously made their way to the kitchen, seeing that the trail left behind had spread over the linoleum with stark brilliance. The spatter of blood made Yonji sick, and Ichiji could feel him retching, trying to hold the sound behind his own clasped hands as Ichiji hesitated at the doorway. He didn't know what made that trail, wasn't sure if he could bring it in himself to find out, but he knew that the woman currently in the kitchen was responsible for it.

With limbs that felt too stiff to move, Ichiji closed the distance to the kitchen, Yonji reaching out to grab his arm so he wouldn't leave him. Very slowly, Ichiji tilted his upper frame to peek inside.


	8. Chapter 8

**a/n: I went through some head issues and could not focus on a thing!**

 **RR: You'll find out in this chapter!**

 **Snowflake97: They definitely are picking up! Niji's won't be the last…**

 **Vegesan: LOL doing my best!**

 **: 8 :**

Sanji had his back turned to them, humming 'Brahm's Lullaby' as he fiddled with the contents in the sink. The sound quality of his voice, overly feminine and distinctively strange, made Ichiji's skin ripple with goosebumps. Yonji's fingers tightened in his grasp, causing him to wince as his younger brother peered over him. Every movement Sanji produced was womanly and grand, even reaching back to flip long hair over one broad shoulder, patting at the crown to smooth down bumps caused by the rain. His clothing was soaked, dripping to the linoleum with every gesture.

When he turned away from the sink, he caught sight of them and gave a small gasp, touching his chest in surprise.

"You startled me!" he said, laughing lightly, leaning back against the sink in a relaxed position. 'You _must_ stop doing that, I'm a little jumpy."

Stuttering, his jaw clenched with tension, Ichiji said, "You were supposed to be headed to the police station…where are the others?"

"Oh, I didn't feel like going there, after all," Sanji said flippantly. "We've had such unpleasant experiences there. My friends and I were able to convince the others to allow us back."

" _Robin_ ," Ichiji said, saying her name only because he'd just remembered it.

"You must understand, we're mostly misunderstood, there," Robin said, smiling at them. "It's not the best place to feel safe, in. Despite placing us in a separate cell away from the others, it's the policemen themselves that feel obligated to give us…personal visits. Looking us over like we're circus folk, teasing and goading the others into confrontations which they feel they can justify. And after today's little incident, there's no certainty as to whether our host can survive that. It was a matter of decision that allowed us to return to our safe place."

"Where's the blood coming from?" Yonji demanded, still hiding behind Ichiji.

Robin looked around herself with a startled expression, noting that the floor was sullied by her entrance. She reached back for the cleaning rag, and pushed away from the sink. Yonji was able to see what it was she was hiding, and gave a strangled sound in response, pushing away from Ichiji, leaving the doorway immediately. Crouching prettily, Robin attempted to clean the fluids around her, smearing the blood trail with the rain.

"Oh, my, I'm so sorry…I do believe I made a mess. I'll have this cleaned in a jiffy, don't worry."

After seeing what had happened to his brother, Ichiji refused to look. He kept his eyes focused on the 'woman' as she put effort into some scrubbing, before standing back up and wringing the wet rag over the sink. Somehow, she was taller than his brother – there was something unnatural about Sanji's height that made him taller than he actually was. He recalled that Niji had complained of this that morning, encountering someone large and massive in his brother's sickly body. He swallowed tightly as she hummed, that lullaby leaving her in clipped notes as she continued to clean. Once her hunched frame disappeared from his sight behind the kitchen island, the humming stopped, the kitchen suddenly falling silent.

Unsure of what to do, Ichiji scanned the sides of the kitchen island, looking for any sign of the woman that had just been there. The air seemed to hum, growing weighty with building heat that made him aware of his layers. Something rattled with movement, hinges squeaking as a door was opened. Ichiji took a wide step to the right, to venture further into the kitchen to look to where Robin had been crouching.

He caught sight of Sanji looking up at him with a ridiculously guilty expression, hand in mid-motion towards the utensil drawer. Freezing in place, Sanji stared up at Ichiji with wide eyes, Ichiji staring at him right back, unsure of what to say.

Teeth were bared as he snickered, dropping his hand from the drawer.

"They told me to do it!" he declared, his voice childishly high, his mannerisms reflecting a sheepish smile and a nervous laugh. He added in a whisper, "They told me I had to take my turn, now, because I didn't get a turn last time."

Ichiji wasn't sure what to say, or what to make of that statement. But Sanji quickly stood, still facing him, nervously fiddling with his wet shirt.

"Did you like my drawings?" he asked, then burst into loud laughter, quickly climbing over the kitchen island. He leapt from that to the counter, knocking over hanging pots and pans in the process. From there, he reached out to catch onto a low hanging joist, swinging himself back and forth. "Ha ha! Oh, man, you should've been there to see Niji's face! He was soooooo scared! What a _baby_! All of you guys! The biggest babies _ever_!"

"Get down from there," Ichiji stuttered tightly, growing unsettled as Sanji continued to swing himself back and forth, wood creaking noisily under his moving weight. "Get down from there, _now_!"

Shrieking out loud with monkey noises, Sanji ignored him.

"SHACHI!" Ichiji shouted, Sanji catching himself in mid-swing to glare at him.

"It's ' _John'_ to you, asshole. Only my real friends can call me that," Shachi sneered at him, dropping to the floor and racing out from the kitchen. "Catch me, catch me! Bet you can't catch me! Fancy pants!"

Ichiji hurried out to see him take the stairs. A glance around showed him that Yonji was poised at the front door, watching his older brother race away. Amid the sound of Shachi running up to the third floor, still showering them with insults, Ichiji held himself back from doing so. He ignored the sound of Shachi's voice jeering at them from the railing.

"Ichi, I can't do this," Yonji told him quietly. "There were three of them. In that state, he killed _three_ of them. Hand cuffed. We watched them hand cuff him!"

Ichiji took his word for it, because he still hadn't looked into the sink to see what it had been that frightened Yonji so badly. "All of them are clearly different people," he said helplessly. "All of them with different warnings."

"Appealing to one isn't the same as appealing to the others. Like, you can't hold a normal conversation with any of them. Not even Sanji himself."

"Unless I can…talk Trafalgar into holding off, to…to talk to dad," Ichiji then said, Yonji looking at him with dismay. "Look, before you say anything – that's been the goal this entire time, right? They want to talk to him. Buggy…to…what if he only wanted to be paid for his services? To…maybe this was effort on his part – he said he witnessed dad – ?"

"They want to do away with him, and you know this! You _know_ this, why do you want to put dad in danger like this?"

Ichiji was quiet for a few moments, as Shachi continued to holler from the third floor. Both of them watched as the man climbed onto the railing to look over at them. His mannerisms were so similar to that of a child, and it alarmed them that he would start climbing dangerously on the railing, uttering giggles and quips over every wrong doing he was doing at that moment. Expecting the pair below to yell at him, to 'chase him'.

"Maybe this is something Sanji needs to do himself," he said to Yonji. "Something deep inside of him, maybe he feels he needs to…confront father about."

Yonji gave him a disgusted look. "After all this time? What was done was done!"

"But maybe he needs peace, Yonji. Maybe he can't move on without…without settling it with father, first. And these other personalities, maybe they latched onto that, and maybe they're doing the pushing, but…consider it. If something went wrong in your life, wouldn't you want to analyze it, question it? Get the answers you needed for it?"

"Not for that type of thing," Yonji muttered. "Not…"

"We can't imagine it for ourselves, but…maybe it's….I think that this is something he needs to do. To find peace."

"And if that Buggy guy, what if he just wants to kill him? He's killing everybody!"

"I don't know. I don't know, I - !"

"Then, _no_!"

Ichiji sighed heavily. Both of them look up to see Sanji climbing back over the railing, falling to the floor with a heavy grunt.

"Just stop fucking around, you little shit!" he bellowed, the change of voice causing both men to jerk in place, startled at its volume, its strength. The man breathed heavily, rising to stand, brushing himself off. From their position, he looked so much bigger than their brother did. Then he strode away from the railing, heavy footsteps rattling the floor underneath his feet. A door slammed shut moments later, followed by a series of voices that intermingled in some intense conversation.

Ichiji heard Yonji swallow nervously.

"We can't stay here," Yonji said quietly.

"The police will respond once they realize their comrades have not shown up, yet," Ichiji told him.

"We can't rely on them after all that!" Yonji shouted at him with frustration, gesturing at the kitchen. "After that thing at Wickem, they didn't want to touch this!"

"Then go," Ichiji said impatiently. "Go seek refuge somewhere else. Either way, they're going to get to dad, and I'm sure many more will fall because of it. Instead of allowing them loose, it makes more sense if they are kept here, in one place, with as little victims as possible."

Yonji reached out and grabbed his shirt, red-faced. "So you'll allow dad to be killed. Lead him here for those guys to 'talk' to."

"After learning what had happened to Sanji, knowing that we could've fallen under the same fate if not for his interference, I find it very difficult to feel any sort of closeness to our father," Ichiji told him firmly. "He disregarded our brother and our sister to satisfy his sick needs. I feel that Sanji deserves closure."

Yonji pushed him, turning away. He said nothing for a few moments, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Ichiji watched him warily. "When Reiju has her children, do you think she would bring them around father?"

"He wouldn't harm them. You know, Sanji's never talked about it, how do we know that guy didn't just set dad up?" Yonji asked, turning to face him. "How do we know that whatever it was in his file, wasn't just a bunch of made up bullshit that guy wrote up just to explain Sanji's actions?"

"If you'll look back, Yonji, there are periods of time that coincide with a timeline Smoker had documented according to Sanji's memory of abuse. While it's true, Sanji did not outright say these things, the fact that he allowed Smoker to come to his own conclusion says enough. Remember those times where dad often left with Sanji, and our brother returned too ill to leave the bed?"

"He was _always_ sick! Because he was smaller than us!"

"How he behaved around father?"

"Because dad was always picking on him for being less than we were!"

"How about Reiju's actions, then? Why would she never speak around him? Why would she pee on herself whenever he wanted to be alone with her?"

Yonji stumbled. He remembered Reiju doing so with such casual action that, even with her dress wet, she continued on without regard to her modesty. He shook his head.

"Go," Ichiji repeated himself firmly. "I'll stay, try to reason with them."

Yonji studied him for a few moments, then shook his head. "Shit like this just doesn't happen normally."

At that moment, from the third floor, the hallway creaked noisily with moving weight. Both of them looked up in that direction, waiting for someone to appear at the stairway. The grandfather clock ticked noisily, rain pattering against the eaves outside, slapping the windows. The continuous sound of movement kept the pair riveted in place, nervous anticipation causing them rigid stances. But as the seconds passed by, making it clear that no one was coming into view, Yonji jerked away from his brother, a scoffing sound leaving him.

"That guy is just messing with us," Ichiji heard him mumble as his younger brother made his way to the study. He made to follow him, giving a frown towards the kitchen – fully aware of the kitchen sink's contents – when a voice called out to them.

At that moment, both men froze in place, sure they were hearing things. After a few ticks of the grandfather clock, they heard Niji call out again.

"Hello!"

Yonji was immediately at Ichiji's side, both of them looking up at the stairway. The sound of their brother's voice seemed to remain over the thick silence of the house, both of them sure they were imagining things.

Ichiji made to investigate when Yonji grabbed his arm. "It's that guy! It's that guy, they're fucking around with our heads! He's _dead_ , Ichiji!"

"I – I know, I'm aware of that!" Ichiji snapped, jerking his arm out of his grasp. "I know he is, but - !"

"You bastards! Stop ignoring me!" Niji shouted at them from the third floor. "I'm _here_ , I'm _right here_!"

"Rot in hell, you fucking asshole!" Yonji bellowed, red-faced.

The sound of Law laughing caused them pause, but not even a second later, Niji shouted out, "I keep telling you, it isn't Sanji!"

"It's not him," Yonji repeated, as if re-affirming it for himself. " _It's not him_ , they're playing tricks with us, Ichi!"

"I'm _aware_ \- !" Ichiji growled back, but he was growing quickly frustrated as he heard Niji shout at them again, his words garbled, as if muffled from another room. Over and over, Ichiji could hear Niji insist that it wasn't Sanji.

"Don't ignore him!" Law chided, from somewhere on the third floor.

"They're making those voices – you thought it was Sanji, earlier, and it wasn't! It wasn't him!" Yonji insisted, hands going to his hair, disheveling it once more.

"They thought to silence me, but I won't be quiet! Not at all!" Niji bellowed.

" _Noisy_!" someone else shouted out, from the same floor. "You're so noisy! We're going to get into trouble!"

" _Ahhh_! They're doing it again!"

"Be _quiet_ , you bastards!"

"Don't let them trick ya!"

"Nothing more from you, firebug!"

"Gaaawwwwww, when's dinner?"

" _All of you, shut up_!" Ichiji bellowed, red-faced with his effort. All at once, the voices silenced, leaving them only in the company of the grandfather clock. Hearing nothing more from that floor, Ichiji watched the stairway anxiously, looking for any sign of the man that was hiding up there. He was unable to imagine how these personalities could switch so fluidly, how they were able to address each other.

Breathing unevenly, Ichiji waited to hear anything else. He felt like he was slowly growing unhinged, losing his earlier train of thought, feeling electricity run through his veins. Somewhere up on the third floor, his brother was lingering, allowing these various personalities to speak for him. It made him feel inadequately prepared for anything that could happen next, sure that this was being done to keep them in a terrorized state. How Wickem had fallen to this sort of witchery could be realized in its entirety – it was no wonder law enforcement stayed away during its final nights.

Swallowing tightly, he struggled to get a grip on his sanity. Talking back to them, as if they were one person, was not helping. It was absolutely clear that they were a mob of their own individuality, and he could not reason with it.

At the same time, he realized he could not reach his own estranged brother. Not if Sanji wasn't making the efforts to reach out for his help. This afternoon, allowing Lucci to take him, Sanji had made it clear that he wasn't looking for his brothers' support. He intended on letting things 'as is', and though Ichiji could understand why, it would help if Sanji were more receptive to Ichiji and Yonji.

He exhaled harshly.

"We'll take him to the station ourselves," he decided heavily, hearing Yonji's quick intake of breath. "If it's us…it might be easier."

"Only if I'm in charge of locking him up," Yonji said, vaguely relieved.

"Go…find what remains of the police. Find their shackles. I'll look for rope. For…for something…maybe even…" Ichiji trailed off, Yonji relieved to hear that his older brother had finally agreed to this. He left the house, thunder rumbling noisily, rain pattering down hard. Ichiji then headed straight for the study, thinking about the medicine stock they had. He found the key to the cabinet, opening it with trouble before rummaging through the bottles, looking for specific names. Once he found what he was looking for, he dumped several into his hand, tucking them away into his pockets. He replaced it all, locked it firmly behind him, then listened to the silence of his house.

As much as it felt that it was crowded with various bodies, there was truly only one body, and he'd already witnessed what it was capable of. He took another deep breath, and headed for the kitchen. While there, he had to see what was thrown into the sink. With a shaking hand, he found a glass from the cupboards, and struggled to make the effort to fill it with water. Every part of him trembled violently as he looked down at Lucci's head, utterly disturbed with how Sanji had been able to detach it from the officer's body when none of them had been carrying knives.

But at the same time, he forced himself to remember the kitchen scene earlier. He turned to the kitchen island once the cup was filled, and looked over the contents that had remained. There was a cutting board present, with the remains of the turkey that Yonji had cut up. But Ichiji remembered that when Sanji had been stirring the gravy, Ichiji had to clean up Sanji's preparation area, which included the sweeping of the counter, removing the salt and pepper shaker, and wondering what Sanji had cut up to include with the dinner. It suddenly occurred to him that he had not removed the knife that should have been atop of the cutting board.

It made Ichiji wonder if it truly had been Sanji standing there as Lucci handcuffed him. And if it was, was he truly innocent?

For several long moments, he stood there, contemplating his choices. Then he left the kitchen, headed for the stairway, headed for the third floor.

 _Tread carefully_ , someone said, close to his ear. It sounded like an older man, but Ichiji was sure it wasn't Smoker's.


	9. Chapter 9

RR: It's starting to look better, thanks! Yes, plenty of characters for me to, ahem, use…and Shachi had made his appearance here and there. If you thought that chapter was spooky, this one, well…you'll see. : ) The descent into Hell starts now…

 **: 9 :**

The walls were nearly black with added drawings. There were words printed neatly in available spaces, detailing the size and contents of the property. A drawn compass just above head level told Ichiji north was behind him. The air seemed to pulsate with heavy heat, the lights overhead dimmed and flickering with each step he took. When he paused in mid-step, the lights stopped flickering, burning with a vague whisper of strength that threatened to fail. The water contained within the glass trembled against the mouth as his hand shook. He listened for any sign of movement other than his own, wondering why it was taking Yonji so long to return. As he continued forward, the lights began to flicker again.

All the doors but one were closed. From underneath them, he could see faint light from lamps underneath, and shadows that passed by, suggesting someone was inside. Just as he registered that, he became aware of the sounds of casual movement – which forced him to accept that there was occupation in place. He paused again, listening to the soft sound of a drawer opening, the gentle step of shoe against wood, the drawing of a curtain. Casual, easy actions that were unthreatening, and yet frightening at the same time.

A bed squeaked as weight settled down atop of it, then the continuous repetition began – a child giggling. Sucking in a heavy breath, Ichiji walked forward, to the only door that was opened; uninviting, it was only a stripe of black in the dim lighting of the hallway. But something told him he needed to be at that particular door – the room containing the dead animals was closed tightly.

He stood outside the door, listening to the sounds of Shachi jumping on the bed. A man cleared his throat noisily from another room, the sound of a closet door sliding open ringing out within the rigid stillness. Had these sounds always been there, and he was just now attuning himself to it?

Exhaling shallowly, Ichiji looked at the cup of glass in one hand, and then sought the words needed to speak up.

"Sanji," he said tightly, finding it difficult to do so when the air was so weighty. "I brought some of your medication."

"He doesn't want that," Law told him, from the other side of the door; it was suggested that he had been standing there, waiting for Ichiji to approach.

"He will," Ichiji said. "After everything he's eaten, today."

The handle jiggled, as if turned and released at the same time. Ichiji could feel his skin break out in a thin sweat as he watched the stripe of black, waiting for the door to open fully to him.

"We've not eaten too much, it won't be needed, thank you," Law then said.

"Metabolism dictates a continuity of food intake, before slowing down and reserving what he tries to burn off," Ichiji said firmly, fingers tightening on the cup. "Starving one's self has the opposite effect, and he always eats, no matter how small. If he doesn't, his body will fail, and thus, ruin any chance you have of surviving long enough to see our father."

The loud bang on the door caused him to lurch backward, water sloshing over his hand as all of Ichiji's limbs jerked in response. All the noises ceased around him, leaving him in an eerie silence.

The door opened, and Sanji looked out at him, his expression reading confusion as his tired eyes settled upon Ichiji's face. For a few moments, nothing was said – Ichiji thought he could hear his younger brother's heart racing, slamming up against his ribcage, but he might've mistaken it for his own. Tentatively, he held the cup of water up.

"I noticed that…Luffy ate a little too much, earlier," Ichiji said stiffly, panic flying over Sanji's features. "Hours, ago. I know you get upset when he does – I brought you some medication to…assist."

"…I…thought I was supposed to be jailed?" Sanji said, looking absolutely lost as he stared at the cup. Ichiji reached into his pocket, withdrew the pills.

"I'm not sure how much you take, but – " he trailed off as Sanji stepped forward and snatched them all, taking the cup of water. It both alarmed and relieved him that Sanji swallowed all of them down without examination, feeling his stomach, patting it for any signs of obvious consumption.

"What did he eat?" Sanji demanded, his voice obscenely loud for the abnormal silence. "What did he eat, all of it?"

"Every bit," Ichiji said tightly. "We didn't know you'd returned, and…it was too late to stop him."

He didn't understand the way Sanji's mind worked – how obsessed he was with food, with physical activity, with 'maintaining'. But his younger brother's face looked absolutely calculating as he stood there, dropping his earlier confusion to his return home. Ichiji felt a thick lump in his throat as his eyes coursed over his brother, wondering where the knife was. But he'd stopped Shachi from taking one, so did that mean Sanji was still armed?

After seeing that near death incident earlier, Ichiji knew how to press Sanji's buttons. For his own safety.

"I'd cut up most of the turkey, but it was missing after you'd returned, at least half the bird," he said slowly, counting off his fingers. "Half of the mashed potatoes as well – the vegetables were halfway consumed before we'd found you – "

"Fucking hell!"

"But we'd also noticed that the icebox had been tampered with, and the concoctions you'd intended on baking later were also missing," Ichiji added with low concern. "Are you feeling unwell after all of that?"

Sanji looked ill, but not because of the food Ichiji had listed; his expression of distress was mainly on the concept of eliminating everything he'd apparently consumed, and Ichiji watched as his shaking fingers encircled his wrist, touched his stomach again, pinching at his sides, his thighs – and it evaded Ichiji's understanding how Sanji could think that this was a negative thing for his physical appearance. Was it the concept of control over what he'd lost because of their father, to remain childlike, or to take on a disgusting appearance to dissuade attraction of some kind? Being unable to understand him, Ichiji knew he would never get these answers.

 _Sanji did not reach out for his help_. He did not reach out to anybody, still thinking that he was alone in his struggle.

It upset Ichiji, thinking of this, because he had hoped to repair what he could of this tumultuous relationship, and he absolutely could not because of those demonic things residing in him. Because of that line of thinking, he felt momentarily unguarded.

 _You shit_! Ichiji heard somewhere behind him – beyond him, far from him, but so close that his skin rippled in goosebumps. _Trickery_!

Without a glance around him, Sanji pushed against Ichiji, striding towards the stairs. Ichiji followed quickly, noticing that the lights that he'd seen earlier were missing in each of the rooms. The hallway light was stronger – it cast an unnatural glow against the colored walls. Hoping the pills were taking effect, Ichiji kept a close step to him, looking to the front doors, waiting for Yonji to return.

"I have to do this! I have to do this, _quick_ , before it settles in! How long has it been?" Sanji asked, his voice cracking. " _How long_?"

"Four hours," Ichiji replied. Sanji looked back at him with a panicked expression, nearly stumbling before catching himself. Once they were on the first floor, Ichiji gaped after him as he then took the stairs with a fast stride, and Ichiji understood that Sanji intended on exercising the supposed meal away in this manner. He stood at the bottom of the stairway as he watched his brother walk up and down the stairs in a frantic manner, clutching the railing.

Then he looked back at the front doors, feeling himself start to fret. Yonji was taking too long. He crossed his arms over his chest, starting to feel his heart race as he listened to Sanji stumble again, hearing him curse, hearing him move faster.

"Can you hear them talking to you, Sanji?" he asked, lifting his voice to be heard. "Do they talk to you directly?"

"I don't care about them!"

"Do you not care what they are doing around you?"

"No, I don't."

"Are you aware that they returned here because they know father is coming here?"

"I don't care about him."

"Will you be able to conduct yourself properly with him in your space?" Ichiji asked, leaning against the banister.

"I'll be my usual charming self, what's the problem?" Sanji snapped fiercely at him, already red faced with his efforts, coming down the stairway at an unnaturally fast pace. He kept stumbling, Ichiji watching him warily. "Not like it matters, I do not have control over what he does!"

Ichiji set his jaw before he then said, "He'll be proud of you for gaining as much weight as you have."

Once he heard the cessation of frantic pacing, he glanced over to see Sanji stilling near the top of the stairs, breathing hard. His fingers clutched the railing tightly, knuckles white. Facing away from him, he hid whatever expression he wore in response to Ichiji's words, but Ichiji hoped that it had given him the right reaction he was looking for. Sure enough, Sanji turned to look at him.

"Why would he be _proud_ of that?" he asked, his voice straining for strength.

"That facility worked to help you overcome your disorder, and it's clearly worked," Ichiji said, eyes straining to see if his posture had changed, if his expression wore someone else's. But Sanji stood rigidly, and his temple veins pulsed as his skin reddened with emotion. He turned to face Ichiji, and Ichiji was that thankful to see he was still addressing Sanji. He did notice how dark it had become in the living room, that things rattled ever so slightly. "Isn't that why you do this to yourself? To destroy any invitation for him to approve of you?"

"I don't give a fuck about anyone's approval!" Sanji shouted at him.

"It doesn't make any sense for you to work so hard. Every calorie you deny yourself, every effort your put into… _this_ …just to satisfy yourself. It's not for yourself, is it? You do this so father would notice you, and not in the way that you think," Ichiji said tightly.

"I don't give a _fuck_ about what he thinks about me!"

"As a child, you gained the most attention from him – as an adult, you're still looking for it, but in another way, a way that you wouldn't think, but it's done quite the opposite for you," Ichiji stated. "Instead of reverting his attention elsewhere, you've made yourself into quite a fascination for nobody to ignore."

Sanji turned and began walking down the stairs towards him, but he judged his steps incorrectly, clinging to the railing. He looked ready to lunge at Ichiji, so Ichiji looked for the weapon that he knew Sanji still had. He backed away as his brother made it down the stairs, but he was breathing too hard, and his legs seemed too shaky to support him properly. He would not present too much of a danger to Ichiji, but it was those other personalities that were deadlier.

"You don't know shit about me! Or what I'm doing!" Sanji shouted at him, voice cracking once more. "Don't stand there and judge me! You don't know what's going through my head! _Never_ have I wanted his attention!"

"You earn it so well, though," Ichiji stated, walking backwards once his brother touched down onto the first floor, making obvious effort to stagger upright, weakened by his poor health and the effect of the pills. "If you didn't want this sort of attention, you would've remained quiet and indifferent, just like Reiju, but you went the opposite route. You went this one, which guarantees attention, not only from him, but from others around you. You _want_ people to look at you, to feel sorry for you, _pity_ , and you shout not only to deflect it, but to draw it in even further. 'Look at me', your face demands, even as you cast it away verbally. 'Look at me', your voice says, as you're throwing a tantrum. That's all you ever wanted, right? Don't try and force me to misunderstand, this is what you wanted. And now that you're getting it, in a way that backfires upon you, you turn to this – pretenses that you're other people, that force you into doing unnatural things. Thus landing you all the attention you felt you lacked as a child."

"You've never been more wrong than you are, now," Sanji told him, tripping once more, hitting the floor on his knees, fighting to remain upright. He heaved for breath, crawling towards him, struggling. Once he realized he couldn't touch Ichiji, who stayed out of his reach, he propped himself on all fours, trying to catch his breath. Ichiji thought he could hear his younger brother's heart racing, but due to the fluttery feeling in his own chest, he wasn't definite. There was something inside of him that hurt, watching Sanji struggle so violently against himself, against him. " _What's happening to me_ …?"

"We were warned, repeatedly, that the only way we could win was to put you away," Ichiji said heavily. Resignation laced his words. He took a chance to glance back at the doors, wondering where Yonji was. "We can't stop them from acting. Especially if you aren't aware of their wrong doings. But it makes me wonder if you truly are incapable of stopping them."

Sanji pushed himself up to sit on his knees, reaching out to clutch a chair's back to support himself. He looked up at Ichiji with the same sort of resignation Ichiji spoke with, trying to steady his breathing. He looked as if he'd just performed some outrageously strenuous feat, and Ichiji wondered if it were only the pills Sanji struggled against, or his own thoughts. His thin, straggly blond hair clung to his sweaty face, concave features holding so much venomous anger that Ichiji suspected heavy damage might have occurred if the man hadn't made himself so physically weak.

But his attack, the pills Ichiji had given him, guaranteed their physical safety – they would be safe transporting him to the police station in town.

 _It's not him_! Ichiji thought he heard Niji exclaim with frustration. _It's not him!_

" _Quiet_!" he snapped out loud, impatient with the buzz at his ear. "Enough of that!"

Sanji regarded him with suspicion, watching him speak out loud. Then, in one smooth move, he was on his feet, Ichiji looking at him with surprise. The red cleared from Sanji's face, and he wasn't so winded. He stood strongly, without effort, but his hand reached to fiddle with an ear lobe.

"You hear that, too?" he asked Ichiji quietly, cringing slightly. "That noise? It's difficult to put away. Certainly, the mice put in their efforts to cast our downfall, deviant fiends that they aspire to be."

Ichiji realized he was no longer in control of the situation, arms falling back to his sides as he began inching back towards the front doors. Sanji watched him with a puzzled expression. From somewhere in the house, Niji gave a hoarse bark of laughter.

" _Will absolutely no one hear me at all_?" he shouted in vain.

With a terse frown, Sanji muttered, "The government is conspiring against us, again. That's the sound of it. That noise, it's meant to cause distraction. Don't you remember it? The machinery in the fields? The index in the back of the bed appointed it, so."

Vaguely, Ichiji was aware of the sound that began again, a hum in the distance that only grew louder as he attuned himself to it. Whoever it was speaking to him made little sense, but as he'd mentioned it, he realized that what he was hearing brought back faint memory of his childhood, waking up to hear the sounds of machines working the fields in the distance. Once it struck him that this was, _indeed_ , the sound that had plagued him since the personalities began making their appearance, he was absolutely bewildered as to why _that_ particular noise continued to sound off with the others' awakening.

It made him question, once more, if Sanji was truly innocent.

He looked back at his brother and realized that he was shifting his weight from side to side, twitching with visible discomfort.

"Fuck, that sound is annoying," Sanji mumbled, flicking at his ears. "It's constant, just constant, a buzzing that never stops. Sounds like flies – there's an uncleanliness to this place that draws in flies, and that's not perfect, that's not right. Where are they coming from?"

"Ichiji!" Niji shouted, and it seemed as if his voice were coming from upstairs. So distinct and loud, so clear. Ichiji looked back at the door, feeling his chest tighten. Where the fuck was Yonji? " _Ichiji_!"

Panic started to burn up from within Ichiji, and he felt extremely cautious as he looked once more to his brother, who was patting a palm up against his ear with distress. Ichiji struggled to settle the nerves that lit on fire, and he glanced around himself, looking for something to use, something to defend himself with. Sanji dropped his hand, looking at Ichiji with a piercing expression. Something about his slow movements caused intense anxiety to race through Ichiji, Sanji's features shifting into that of a fierce, wide grin.

"Ah, ha ha ha ha ha, what have we here?" he growled out, his voice deeper and louder than it was earlier, as his irises turned fully black. Somehow, his shoulders lifted, growing impossibly larger, and his body hunched slightly as his legs settled into a low stance, ready to shift at any moment. "Are you trembling from fear, meat sack? You look upset. Let me hug you."

Throat tight, Ichiji's thoughts raced from one side to the other before evading him completely as Sanji stalked towards him, eyes focused entirely on him. He found strength to move, taking the steps necessary to keep the couch between them, but found himself gaping with incredulity as Sanji picked up one end of the couch, hauling it from floor to toss aside with nothing more than a low growl, displaying a hideous show of strength that should have been impossible with his body.

Aware that the end was coming towards him, Ichiji was suddenly aware of everything: of Niji's frantic shouts from the attic, of Law's giggles, Shachi's laughter, Robin's chuckle.

 _Talk about the machine_ , someone said gently – a wisp of soft sound that did not fit the terror of the moment.

Ichiji's lips flapped uselessly before he sputtered out, "The reaper…why was it the reaper you always heard?"

Shilliew stood over him for a few moments, that malicious grin faltering slightly before giving a puzzled look. His facial features twisted before he tilted his head, looking to the floor for assistance.

"It was the only one anyone had owned," Buggy replied thoughtfully, features twisting into place as he blinked repeatedly, struggling to come up with the memory. "In the distance, it was so loud, and it made a…as a child, of course, it was frightening to me. I didn't see it for so long, so I imagined that it was a monster of some type - you know how silly kids get. But, ah, that's an odd question for you to ask."

"Even after you knew what it was, you continued to fear it?"

"Haven't you see one?" Buggy asked him. "Those teeth like a monster's! And what they could do to a field! That was…that was the summer it changed. Everything. Seeing my friend lose his arm – so easily. So…it was a monster in the end, much like – I wanted to do this, to cheer him up, but – it didn't work that way – "

"You're not seeing things very well, here," Law said, appearing in that moment with an impatient expression. "He is using words of distraction – "

"Are you _tricking_ me?" Buggy cried, glaring at Ichiji.

He was so close to the door – he felt the knob in his hand as he reached back for it, Buggy closing the distance between them.

"Why can I hear it?" Ichiji demanded, feeling himself sweat, his palms moist as his fingers slipped around the knob. "Why am I hearing your trauma?"

Buggy gave him an incredulous expression, mouth dropping open. "You can _hear_ it? _You_ can hear it, too? Akainu swore it'd be fixed – only I can hear that sound! Can you hear it? Is it that loud?"

"It's loud."

Incredulous, Buggy turned away from him, looking around the area with his hands lifting to his face. Ichiji opened the door, and slipped through, emerging into the cold night. Without saying anything else, he escaped the front porch, emerging out into the rain that pattered heavily to the ground. He could barely see anything around him. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and he shielded his eyes, but he couldn't see the end of the driveway. He took to it, his boots slipping in the mud, hearing the doors open behind him.

"NO!" Buggy screamed, heaving the sound with a shattered sob. "NO! NOT AGAIN! I performed a feat, and you intend on ignoring me! I earned my pay! I earned my pay! Are you not _entertained_?"

"COME BACK HERE!" Shilliew bellowed, Ichiji glancing over his shoulder to see the man pursue him, taking impossibly long strides, heavy weight hitting the muddy ground with such thunderous action that he could feel it under his feet. Ichiji started running fast, searching the impossible darkness for Yonji. "COME BACK HERE, YOU CAN'T ESCAPE ME!"

Breathing shallowly, Ichiji put everything he could into keeping the distance between them. He followed the gravel-covered road, recognizing the trenches of wagon wheels, the familiar sights of the shrubbery that lined it. Lightening flashed in the distance, and even over the hard pour of rain, he could hear Shilliew chasing him. His heavy breathing suggested such a larger man than Sanji was, and Ichiji knew that he'd catch up – he veered quickly off the road and into the wet shrubbery, pushing through the brush with frantic action, taking to the woods. Here, the landscape was so much more slippery, mud with a mixture of uneven terrain under boot making it near impossible to stay upright. But Shilliew was slowed, hitting the ground with a loud curse, releasing a roar of outrage as he did so.

Ichiji looked back just in time to see him struggling to get back up, and missed his footing on some tree roots. He hit the ground with a whoosh of exhaled breath, scrambling to use the exposed roots to rise. Stumbling over them, he rounded the tree, hit another, and tripped over some brush that scratched at him. The brambles clung to his wet clothing, held him back as he shoved himself forward, heaving exhalations of effort to get through them. The crash of sound told him that Shilliew had hit the same spot, and amidst his cantankerous action, he cursed Ichiji for getting such distance between them.

Ichiji turned right, knowing he'd return back to the property.

"YONJI!" he shouted, as loudly as he could. " _YONJI_!"

Shilliew's wild laughter echoed out through the trees as Ichiji escaped them, seeing the lights of the house ahead of him. He still couldn't see the road at this point, couldn't see any sign of Yonji – _where was he?_ – and made the choice to return to it. Nearly out of breath from the pacing, the efforts he'd taken, Ichiji raced up the stairs of the front porch and ran inside, slamming the doors shut. Locking them.

Hearing his own breath, his boots scuffing against the floor, Ichiji dripped from the fallen rain, looking around himself. The house felt empty, and the grandfather clock ticked noisily nearby. He hurried towards the study, for the gun cabinet. His fingers shook violently as he found the key needed to access it, withdrawing a rifle from inside. He clumsily handled the rounds needed to load it, dropping some onto the floor as he shoved two rounds in. He paused while stuffing more rounds into his trouser pockets, listening to the rain fall on the house.

When he was satisfied with the stillness that signaled he was the only one present, he finished loading, locked the cabinet, and strode out from the study, looking around. All he saw were the puddles he'd left behind, the doors still locked tightly as he'd left them. He slipped out of his boots, shrugged clumsily out of his outfit jacket. Then hurried upstairs, for the attic – where he'd heard Niji. Finding the key for that, he opened the door, shoving it in. He flicked the light on, seeing only the blood stains left behind when Niji's body was removed.

"Niji?" he whispered, hissing the name again as he hurried around the tower of furniture within the center of the floor. He knew he wouldn't find his brother there, frantic just to hear his voice, again. "NIJI!"

"ICHIJI! I'm here!" Yonji shouted from within the house, and Ichiji stilled, heart slamming up against his chest. He held a breath he couldn't afford to, knowing that it was wrong. The doors were locked. But maybe Yonji had returned while he'd been out, and was taking cover in one of the rooms.

"Yonji! Where are you?" he shouted back, leaving the attic without locking the door behind him.

All he heard in response was the grandfather clock, and his blood ran cold. His weight caused the floorboards underneath him to creak ominously as he shuffled across them, holding the rifle tightly in both hands.

"ICHI!" Yonji shouted again, coming from somewhere below him.

"Where are you?" Ichiji snapped back, taking the stairway cautiously, trying to place exactly where he could be.

" _ICHIJI_!" Yonji cried out, and his voice trembled, causing Ichiji much distress at the fragility of it. It was still so much more below him, and he paused in mid-step, heart pounding hard as he registered the direction. "ICHIJI!"

"Goddamn it, _where are you_?" Ichiji shouted, hefting the rifle up, taking a few more steps, hearing the drip of his clothes as he moved.

"ICHI!"

Struggling to rein in his panic, telling himself that he had to focus, had to concentrate on potential trickery, Ichiji made it down onto the first floor, stilling. A soft bang against an object that caused it to rattle made him whirl around, rifle at the ready. All he could see on the floor was his own wet trail, and the bloodstains from the head in the sink.

"ICHIJI!"

The voice came from the kitchen, and Ichiji pictured the door, there. He hurried towards that direction, bursting into the area with rifle ready, trigger finger trembling. The door was opened, allowing the cold and the wet from outside to filter in, and he scanned the counters, spotting the opened pantry door.

He wouldn't be in there.

He _knew_ this – Yonji often complained of the size, unable to handle it.

But he ventured in that direction, anyway, thinking that fear would cause Yonji to do uncomfortable things, like run away. Each step was monumental effort – his thoughts kept screaming at him to think logically. Yonji would not be in the pantry – but _he ran away_. For someone his size and structure, he _ran away_ from someone that looked like Sanji.

Breathing shallowly, he reached out, pushing the pantry door wider, hearing it bang against the wall as he did so. As he thought, it was empty.

"ICHI!"

Ichiji whirled around at the closeness of the voice, scanning the kitchen once more. Instinct told him to get out of there, to run for safety, but Yonji's voice was _so close_.

He ventured around the kitchen island, to head towards the open kitchen door – _it shouldn't be open_ – when he heard Yonji cry his name out again. It was so close – Ichiji looked into the sink, not wanting to see the contents, but unable to stop himself. Lucci's head was looking at him, blinking normally, mouth twitching violently. Once he had Ichiji's attention, his expression twisted with a maniacal giggle.

"Ichiji! _Help me_!" he begged in Yonji's voice, and Ichiji turned and raced for the kitchen door with a shout of panic. He slammed off the body running in, something sharp hitting him in the gut. Automatically, he pushed out as he hit back first against the floor, the length of the rifle stopping the paring knife from falling down on him.

Law laughed maniacally as he pressed down against Ichiji, using his weight to sit on Ichiji, stabbing downwards while dripping his wet clothes over him. Ichiji struggled, shrimping from the tight grip of Sanji's bony legs, Law driving the knife at him over and over without pause.

"Big brother! Big brother, _save me!"_ Law mocked him with Sanji's voice, erupting into giggles again as he pressed down on the rifle with one hand, Ichiji shoving as hard as he could to keep it between them, to keep the weapon from allowing Law to stab him. Ichiji then bucked him upward, Law reaching out to catch himself, allowing Ichiji to turn, to use his shoulder against his chest to push up from the floor. Law wrapped his arms around Ichiji's head, knife pressed against Ichiji's shoulder, stabbing him with the movement. Ichiji struggled to slam Law onto the floor as he turned at the same time, reversing their position.

Law kicked at him, grabbing a hold of Ichiji's wrist with one hand, turning as Ichiji used the rifle to press down against his chin.

"STOP IT!" he bellowed, faced with the man's grinning face as he struggled underneath Ichiji. "SANJI! _STOP IT_!"

"He's not in, please leave a message," Law told him flatly before twisting, back to Ichiji, then shooting out from underneath him. He climbed to his feet and ran out before Ichiji could lift the rifle, firing at him belatedly as he fled the kitchen, laughing. Heart pounding, Ichiji sat on the floor, adrenaline racing through him with dizzying speed. He frantically scraped his fingers over himself, looking for injury.

At the sound of laughter coming from the sink, he paused in mid-breath. He could see the hairline of the head moving inside of it, the sound amplified by the porcelain. Shakily, Ichiji rose to his feet, taking the few steps needed to look in.

Lucci was laughing at him, so Ichiji raised the rifle and used the last round on that smiling face.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/n: Complete! Horror stories aren't easy to read, but I hope this one leaves a reader feeling blasted. It is definitely the end of this particular series, so the ending is rather jolting. Thanks for sticking with it to the end!**

 **DedicatedFan: Glad I was able to make you feel that way! It was pretty tense as Ichiji fought to survive, making all the classic mistakes one does in a horror movie :P This last chapter will hopefully answer a few questions, and cause more! Thank you for reading and commenting all the way through!**

 **Also thanks to RR, Snowflake97, Vegesan, Musical Bear and Alasse M for all your reviews!**

 **: 10 :**

He stalked out from the kitchen, rifle reloaded and held up high. He heard the pounding of footfalls on the stairway, the slam of a door. Gales of laughter trickled down from that area, and Ichiji grit his teeth, stalking into that direction. Hearing that they'd closed themselves off on the third floor, he hurried up the stairs. He headed to his room, slammed and locked the door. Then strained with the effort to push the heavy armoire in front of it; he added the chest and the dresser. Breathing heavily, Ichiji studied the obstacles he'd placed in way of the door, and stood back. Aware that it pained him to move, he figured it was only because of the tumbling he'd taken outside, the fight he had with Law. He marched to his closet, ripping off his wet shirt. He replaced it with a looser one. After that was settled, he slipped off his socks, then returned to the door, shaking with adrenaline loss and the cold.

He listened to the sound of heavy footfalls above him, the light creak of hinges as a door opened. Even after it all, he wondered if he could shoot his brother.

At this point in time, he felt he could. They were actively trying to kill him, and it was obvious Sanji was too immersed in his misery to give a damn. It would be as if Ichiji were granting him freedom by killing him. He told himself this, catching his breath, rifle still clutched in both hands. Because his legs felt weak, he stepped back until he hit the bed, and sat heavily at the edge of it.

In the heavy silence, he could hear the grandfather clock. Someone sniffled and sneezed noisily, but because of the distance, the muffled direction it came from, Ichiji couldn't tell who had. He almost laughed because the sound was so _normal_. He recalled the conversation he had with Sanji – those barbiturates had left him weak, his body already mangled from this morning's heart attack. How was he still able to move, to stand? It didn't make any sense. The show of strength from both Shilliew and Law didn't make any sense, either. It seemed that each personality had its own power.

Ichiji wondered, for the countless time, where Yonji was. He glanced back at the clock on his nightstand, but jerked to attention at the sudden sound of a knock against his door. The reverberating bounce and returned knock had his stomach in knots until he identified it as a ball being bounced against the structure. He clenched his teeth together.

They were messing with him. Keeping him on edge. He straightened up from his bed, rifle at the ready. The ball continued to bounce against his door, knocking onto the hallway floor before being returned.

" _Ichi_ ," someone whispered low, in a mocking tone. "Ichiiiiiji! Come out, come out!"

The ball stopped bouncing, and Ichiji stared hard in that direction, trying to pick out individual sounds. There should have been a shift of wood because it often creaked when weight was applied, but even those betrayed him. He exhaled steadily, to settle the sudden race of his heart as fear edged around his veins. The knob turned and caught, so it rattled upon the other person's impatience. A loud slam caused Ichiji to jerk back in reaction, resettling himself hurriedly with the rifle at the ready.

He strained his ears, listening for something to tell him who exactly was outside his door. He had no doubt Shilliew would break it down without hesitation, and it was him that Ichiji felt he would shoot in no time. Law, as well. The other two didn't seem that harmless, but he couldn't discount them from trying anything. He jumped again when an immense slam against the wall, feet away from the door, caused paintings and a giant full-size mirror to rattle on their hooks. He couldn't hear them walking in the hall – how were they able to accomplish this movement without causing the floor to creak?

Nearly moments later, the knob rattled again, but it was followed by impatient rapping.

"Hey, guy!" someone called out, and his voice was familiar, Ichiji was sure he'd heard it, but in his panic, he couldn't quite place it. "Hey, I know you can hear me. Like I told the other one, it ain't going to stop. You have to do it, man. Nothing else can stop them - !"

" _Shush_ , murderer. Nothing you say is helpful."

"Fuck you, psychopath!"

"Ichhiiiiiiji, come out from there, eh? Barricading yourself in a room all by yourself? That's asking for trouble," Robin cooed up against the door. "Where will you go? I suppose you can throw yourself out the window, but that's where the kitchen is, isn't it?"

"We won't bother you anymore, _gosh_ ," Shachi complained, bouncing that ball again. "Such a cry baby!"

"I'm a little hungry! Is it alright if I get something to eat?" Luffy whined, replacing Robin's position. The door knob rattled as he fiddled with it. "I can help myself real quick!"

"Not like this door can stop me!" Shilliew bellowed, pounding against it, causing a crack in the frame as Ichiji tensed, ready to fire as soon as he saw him. The drawers of his dresser opened slightly, and the armoire rattled.

When silence fell once more, and the creak of the floor told Ichiji Sanji was moving away from the door, he relaxed only a little. The seconds ticked by, and the rifle rattled in his hands. He felt sweaty all over again, but he assumed it was only rain dripping from his hair. His finger tingled as it continued to rest against the curved trigger, his legs tense as they held him rigidly.

"I can't stop them," Sanji admitted quietly, his voice located away from the door. Ichiji stilled, holding his breath. His mind raced as he tried to think of what had been said for his younger brother to admit that. He noticed how his words slurred as he spoke, the effect of those pills he'd taken in effect. Ichiji didn't understand how that was possible – how could a host body be affected when the others clearly weren't? Weren't they all of the same organism? "Just give it to them, and all of this…? All of this will just float away."

Ichiji wet his lips, but his mouth was dry. It took some time to speak. "It was already agreed upon, that father will…come here. Because of Niji's death, but also, for a chance at conversation between him and those – others – for yourself. To put it to rest."

Sanji snorted. His slurred words were full of derision, and Ichiji could picture him rolling his eyes grandly. "I have nothing to 'put to rest', Ichiji. Just pay the clown, get it over with."

"If that's all he wants, causing all this chaos and destruction – _why_?" Ichiji bellowed out with immense frustration. "Why put all this effort into trying to kill us, just to get to him? We're not a part of this fucking problem he has with father!"

"I don't care what his deal is about," he heard Sanji reply crankily, but his tone was low. "All I know is that it won't stop until they get to him."

Several beats passed before Sanji then added, "They drew out Akainu in the same manner. That way. Stopped at nothing until…then they set their focus on…on him. They were unstoppable."

"There's got to be a way to intervene – negotiate! There is _always_ a way to negotiate!"

Sanji snorted again. Ichiji grit his teeth, reached up with a trembling hand to wipe his face. His midsection felt too tight, and it felt like it was on fire, sore, and while he had the chance, he glanced down. His dark shirt clung to him, but he only figured it was because of his dripping hair.

"There is no negotiation with that man," he heard Sanji mumble. Ichiji thought he was referring to Law, or Buggy. Because Sanji never spoke about himself, or gave away anything that tormented him.

Ichiji swallowed, licked his lips. He tasted salt, or iron. He wasn't sure. "We can put this to rest. All of it. If we work together – "

"You want to save your daddy? Kill me before he arrives. That'll save you all the trouble – "

"Don't listen to him," Robin interrupted smoothly. "He's under the influence, he isn't exactly clear of what he wants."

"His demands are rather high, considering what worth he is to everyone here," Law added with a laugh. "Hasn't he caused you enough trouble as it is, without adding order?"

Ichiji wasn't sure what to say in response to them. But he had heard what Sanji was saying, the second request made of him. _It felt wrong_. It felt wrong because it was unnatural, what was expected from him, but at the same time, he could provide because these people were dangerous –

He heard the struggle of voices, complaints, curses, a whirlwind of sound that turned into a tonal growl of unnatural wind. The silence that ensued right after left Ichiji tense all over again, waiting to hear Sanji's voice again, or for another personality to reach out for him. The silence that waited long after that odd noise stretched until he could hear the grandfather clock clicking away, again.

He then heard the halting footsteps of Sanji as he slowly walked away from the door, heading to his own room. Ichiji debated on what had just happened as he listened to the bedroom door close. Hastily, he began shoving the heavy items out of the way of his door, making just enough space for him to slide through. Out in the hallway, he tensed again, clutching the rifle hard within both hands as he listened for voices or movement. The lights overhead flickered once, then remained steady. Hearing nothing, he then ventured towards Sanji's room, feeling his heart pound.

Faced with the closed door, Ichiji stood there for several moments, fiddling with the options that had been presented to him. He cleared his throat, cutting the action short when he realized how loud it seemed. Utterly tense, he reached out to knock on it, inches away from the wood as he strained to hear where Sanji was inside.

All he heard was that abnormal vibration, and the wood seemed to curl with a strange darkness that looked similar to wisps of smoke. At first he thought it was a fire, but he did not smell smoke. It lifted and peeled away towards the ceiling, the knob jingling slightly. Aware that these things happened only when those personalities were present, Ichiji gripped the rifle tightly, finger on the trigger.

"Sanji…?" he called out tentatively, cringing at the sound of his unusually timid voice.

"You can only enter if you intend on finishing me off," came the ornery reply.

His fingers tightened on the barrel, finger lifting off the trigger with apprehension. Ichiji struggled to breathe normally, blinking drops of water away as they continued to drip from his hair.

"That's not something I want to do," he said in response.

"I don't give a fuck to what _you_ want to do. In the end, you dumb ass, I don't have a say."

Ichiji thought that this was something Sanji had said most of his life. He believed in it. With their father, with the police, the sanatorium, and now…Ichiji wanted to negate that, insist that he did, but after everything that had happened, it was clear to Ichiji that maybe Sanji didn't.

He reached out and touched the door knob, but he couldn't bring himself to turn it.

He exhaled shortly. "Then do it yourself."

At the resulting silence, Ichiji wondered if he'd spoken to himself, or said these things too low. He couldn't but think about this morning, watching Sanji kill himself slowly with his methods of exercising, of careful portions and reluctance to adhere to the sanatorium's case plan. He took those words back, because it was clear that Sanji had been trying to.

He twisted the knob, hearing it unlatch.

"…Stay… _out_!" someone struggled to say, the very effort of it confusing Ichiji. It almost sounded like Law, but strangely subdued. There wasn't any threat to it. Ichiji was bewildered after that wild battle earlier, after all the confrontations they had.

The door continued to vibrate, the darkness drifting away from it building in strength towards the ceiling. Again, Ichiji heard the struggle of different voices, cursing and pleading, their words garbled by distance and overlap. It was so strange to hear that his brow furrowed deeply, and he looked at the pattern on the wood before him. He opened the door.

As it swung open, the struggle of voices grew more intense. He could individually hear Law, Robin, Shachi and Shilliew, along with Buggy, crying out with different reactions upon his entrance. The room was dark, and when Ichiji flicked on the light, it didn't do much to disperse the unusual smoke that writhed against the ceiling. His mouth fell open as he gaped up at the sight, able to see individual hands and fingers pushing against the surface, as if to stop themselves from escaping. As he followed the thick plume down to the floor, he saw that Sanji was sitting there, facing away from him, in an unusually docile position. But his skin glittered with sweat, bony fingers fisted tightly on skinny thighs, and his hair hung over his face, hiding most of his expression from Ichiji.

Around him were moving forms, and Ichiji was shocked to see the shapes of men, a single woman, a child, struggling to hold onto Sanji by his hair, his shoulders; but their hands drifted through him without trouble. Ichiji could hear his younger brother's troubled breathing; heavy exhales and shaky inhales that suggested immense effort. He didn't understand what was happening, but the sight before him was unnatural, ungodly, and if the struggle of those demonic things were of any indication of distress after their show of power earlier, then he felt compelled to follow through with Sanji's request.

Shakily, he lifted the rifle to both hands, steadying himself. His heart struggled against it, making it difficult to level the barrel as needed for a sure shot. The shadows that tried to hold onto Sanji suddenly veered in his direction, and he swiped at them in reaction, releasing in a terrified shout at their presence.

But nothing happened – it was only an intense, fleeting darkness that swept around him as they struggled to stop him, and Ichiji finally realized that they only intended on preventing his action. They couldn't – they couldn't touch him. Out of Sanji's body, they were powerless to do anything.

So stunned upon this realization, Ichiji froze.

"Hesitating will kill _you_ faster," Sanji mumbled.

Ichiji looked to him again. He had a hard time accepting of this task, and it showed. As resolved as he was, lifting the gun against his own brother – whom he tried to save – was much more difficult than he expected. He was aware of the frantic voices around him; all the shouts, curses, threats, but he paid them no mind if they couldn't touch him. Ichiji had so many questions, so many things he needed answers to, but he knew there wasn't that much time.

" _ICHIJI_!" he heard Niji shout from somewhere in the house; it was a panicked scream. Without any accompanying explanation for it, Ichiji resolved to ignore that brother's persistence.

He lifted the gun, propping it firmly against his shoulder. Leveled the barrel at the back of Sanji's head.

"ICHIJI! _NO_!" Niji cried.

Ichiji settled his finger on the trigger, watching a single bead of sweat roll down Sanji's cheek, disappearing in the collar of his shirt. He saw the way his shoulders drooped, relaxing like bony wings at his side. His finger curled around the trigger, feeling the tension there as his entire arm trembled with all his emotions, his thoughts, his hesitation.

"Tell me now," he demanded shakily. "Tell me before it ends. Were you _involved_?"

In the heavy silence that followed, he waited for Sanji to give him _something_. Anything to explain what he felt, what he thought – he was giving Sanji the choice to be forgiven for any potential involvement he might have had with all the senseless deaths. Ichiji would forgive him, no matter what answer he was given.

"If you'll please give me this one thing and hurry up with it, my friend is waiting for me," Sanji said quietly. The immense feeling of frustration and disbelief Ichiji felt because he would never know filled him with a sense of grief that made it difficult to breathe.

He swallowed tightly, and began pulling on the trigger, watching as Sanji closed his eyes, waiting. For a moment, there was total silence, and Ichiji's gut wrenched with an uncomfortable shot of pain that made his own eyes squeeze shut as electricity seemed to jolt him from the inside. The grandfather clock ticked noisily from the first floor, and he marveled at how he could still hear it.

He pulled the trigger, and the rifle exploded with such a noisy bang that he was rendered into a ringing deafness that felt like he'd been hit in the head. Incredulously, not even a moment later, Sanji was on him, snarling out with a fierce curse that boomed just as loudly as the rifle.

"You _idiot_!" he growled, on Ichiji with hands that felt like steel as fingers wrapped into his clothing, and phenomenal strength yanked him completely off his feet. Ichiji flailed with utter surprise, dropping the rifle as the man lifted him up and slammed him hard into the nearby desk, scattering journals, inkwells, to the floor. The expression on Sanji's face was intense and dark, teeth showing with a clench as he heaved with exertion. "You do this, they won't just up and disappear! They'll use _you_ in his place! Filthy, stupid rich pig! The Vinsmokes are capable of tossing money where they think it'll give them an advantage, but not use their fuckin' heads to _think_!"

Ichiji couldn't manage a sound as the man held him down, glaring at him. This one was new, but his expression – Ichiji had seen it before. He reached up to escape when Sanji lifted him off the desk, and it was as clear as ever; the shadows were gone. Dragged out from the room, Ichiji was powerless to get his footing as that immense strength held him in check, and they were striding down the hall, heading downstairs.

Ichiji felt each step as Sanji made his way to the first floor, moving for the kitchen. He sputtered out surprised shouts, demands for release, but he could not get his footing to stand, and thus was dragged bodily alongside Sanji.

"You have to eliminate the problem where it starts!" the man snarled, head twisting this way and that, searching. "With no other potential host available, we can stop them before they move onto another! Otherwise, there's no point for killing, is there? They can move onto another until they reach Mr Vinsmoke, and I'm well aware your precious daddy is top priority. Sick fuck that he is, he'll evade any type of charges if everyone that knows his damned secrets stay that way. I failed the first time, thinking Buggy was cured, but not this time. Out of pure spite alone, _I_ will eliminate the potential infection of another by getting rid of the entire lot. If that includes you, Hell be it."

Horrified, Ichiji saw him reach for the drawers, struggling mightily to get out of the man's grasp. Vaguely, putting names together, he recognized that this man was Dr Akainu, Buggy's nemesis. He was aware of distant shouts in the background, aware that the lights flickered with trouble, straining to remain on as Akainu moved about. He grunted as Akainu slammed him back first onto the floor, stomping on him to pin him with his heel as he found what he was looking for. The sight of the butcher's cleaver caused Ichiji's eyes to widen, and he reached out with a pleading gesture as Akainu then looked to him.

"Sorry, kid, it ain't anything personal to you, but I'm going to finish what I apparently started," Akainu said firmly, no remorse present on his features as he swung the cleaver down hard.

: :

The house was engulfed in flames as they rounded the bend, and Yonji gaped at it, horrified as he realized the sight. Next to him, Judge gave a short gasp, then looked at him for an explanation as the reluctant men in uniform around them stared at the large plume of smoke and building flames with expressions of horror. The horses around them gave uneasy noises as they paused below the driveway, watching as the roof caved in, collapsing most of the structure two levels in. Embers took to the air as wood snapped noisily, glass shattering. Without any idea how long it had been burning, all of them were certain it was too late for those inside to have escaped.

But Yonji heard the faint screams of people, agony apparent in their voices, barely audible from the distance. Judge made to snap the reins, to get closer, sure he could hear the sounds of his own sons burning in anguish. But the closest officer to him, Kaku, reached out and caught the lead horse by its bit, halting his effort.

"We're too late," he stated softly. "There's nothing we can do for them, now."

"The hell you say! You can hear them! You can hear them _screaming_ \- !" Judge insisted in a reedy voice, making to stand when Kaku said firmly to Yonji, "You said there was only two of your brothers present, right? All the servants were gone?"

It took a few moments for Yonji to find his voice. His shoulders touched his ears as he reflected on the question. He then nodded.

"There's too many people crying out," Kaku then stated, looking at Judge directly. Judge couldn't look at him, face carrying the shadows made with the flames that burned brilliantly through the passing drizzle from above. "We're familiar with that story, sir. I'm sorry. My condolences to the loss of your boys."

Incredulous, Judge looked at him. The house continued to fall around itself, embers flaring up in a showery display of orange. Horses paced restlessly, law enforcement watching it burn with apprehensive faces. Yonji's hands shook as he covered his face, ever mounting guilt surging through him.

They continued listening to the screams until they finally silenced.

: :

Nearly a week later, with the gravesite services ended, Reiju walked quietly through the stately living room she swore she would never step foot in again. Her skirts swished gently around her feet as she headed towards Yonji, who was sitting tiredly in one of the leather chairs half circled around an expensively carved table. In the visiting parlor behind them came the gentle voices of mourners as they spoke quietly of the brothers that had perished in the fire.

She reached out and touched her youngest brother's shoulder, capturing his attention. Yonji looked up at her, and Reiju, with her expressionless face, asked softly, "Where is Sanji?"

"Oh, I put him in my room." Uncomfortably, Yonji looked at his hands. "I had to grab the urn before father could go forward with his threat of dumping it in the lavatory downtown."

"Thank you," Reiju said, managing a slight curl of her lips. "It was a beautiful ceremony for the others."

Yonji nodded in agreement, picking at his ascot before he studied the gentle swell of her stomach. He gestured listlessly at it. "Are you okay?"

"Never better," Reiju said, turning away from him. "They will be beautiful."

"How can you be so…blasé about the entire thing?" Yonji then asked her, rising to stand. "Our brothers are _dead_. Things happened in that house that I can't even explain, I don't feel that people believe me, and - ! You're not showing anything about it!"

Reiju paused in mid-step, and then turned around to look at him. "How am I supposed to show the complications of my feelings? They were unnatural deaths, yes, maybe somehow preventable…but honorary. Ichiji had done what he thought was right for our brother, and…he did his best. He must be commended. _All_ of you should. I'm proud of all three of you for trying when no one else would."

Yonji bit the inside of his lip, trying to determine her true feelings as she looked at him. Her expression revealed nothing, and he couldn't help but hear Ichiji tell him the reasoning why. He reached up, scratched idly at his nose.

"I guess so," he mumbled. "Just…not like this. Not…they shouldn't have…in the end, there's much dissatisfaction."

Reiju agreed with him with a gentle nod. She then continued on her way, taking the stairs to the room Yonji had left behind when he moved out of their father's house. Exhaling heavily, Yonji sat back down on the chair, looking at the floor.

His ears rung, and they had since the night of the fire. He'd woken up from dead sleep many times, hearing the screams of different people. He didn't know what happened, but Ichiji and Sanji perished that night, and the fire had eliminated all traces of the events leading up to it. His father was furious, and he always would be. But Yonji himself would always wonder if Judge would ever feel any regret for his actions years ago. He still doubted that they were true.

Swallowing tightly, he lowered his head into his hands. It felt like a waking nightmare that he was without his brothers, after living most of his life with them. He expected Niji to be close by; he expected to lift his head and see Ichiji standing somewhere in the doorway, looking to pick at something. He expected to hear Sanji snapping at somebody. _Something_.

Minutes passed before he heard Reiju return, and he looked up to see her carrying the urn that held Sanji. Ichiji had been identified by his teeth in the kitchen, missing half of his skull. Sanji had been found in the basement, his skeleton in a seated position. The rumors that floated around the island, released by the workers that had assessed the fire, had pointed their fingers at him, and priests had been called in to bless the area, demanding it to be closed away from re-occupation; in fear that this unnatural oddity would happen again.

At one time, Yonji would have scoffed at such measures, but after everything he'd seen…

Reiju's hands cupped the plain urn with all the gentleness of found treasure, and when she looked at him, she finally smiled.

"He must be at peace, now," she said fondly.

Yonji couldn't feel the same way. He blamed Sanji for everything. He did not possess Ichiji's way of thinking.

At the heavy approach of their father's footsteps, that smile of Reiju's died away. Judge walked in, catching sight of the pair of them before seeing the urn in her hands. His face filled with fury, reddening as his entire body stiffened. He looked to Yonji.

"I thought you said you'd gotten rid of it," he hissed, keeping his voice low so that the other mourners couldn't hear him.

"He gave him to me at my request," Reiju said flatly.

Judge looked at her, mustache shaking with words he visibly repressed. Reiju watched him, then she shifted the urn to one arm, the other fiddling with her skirts. Yonji stood because the tension had built so intensely that he felt a sharp shift in the air, moments before he saw the gun.

The blast was so thunderous that Yonji at first mistaken it for the stormy weather outside, but the mourners in the visiting parlor screamed and began scrambling for an exit. With horror, Yonji watched as Judge dropped where he'd stood, Reiju's gun smoking visibly as she watched his body settle on the floor.

She retreated her arm, then turned to look at Yonji with a brilliant smile. Without any visible distress, she pocketed the weapon and walked off with the urn held gently in both hands once more.

He watched her leave, unsure of how to feel. As he stood there in the heavy silence, he exhaled tensely, feeling his shoulders shift slightly. He was aware of booming laughter, and he had the thought that it was one of the mourners outside, who had yet to become aware of what had just happened.

But the wind caused the windows to rattle ever so slightly, and the clouds in the sky, previously threatening another storm, began to disperse.


End file.
